


Hell and You

by Morgana_Ren



Series: Like Lovers Do [2]
Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novels)
Genre: Again me being gross with my weird kinks, Alcohol, All credit goes to the game creators, All he knows is he doesn't want to kill you... yet, Angry crazy German boy fucking you into the floor AGAIN, Angry crazy German boy ruining your entire life, Assault, Blackmail, Bloodplay, Doesn't mean he won't fuck your whole day up, Dubious Consent, F/M, Forced Oral, Hey why are you blushing when he looks at you, I get off on tags, Im not kidding pure self indulgence, Jealousy, Psychopaths In Love, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sadism, Sexual Assault, Stalking, Stockholm Syndrome, Taken hostage in your own home, This story is just gross self indulgence on my part, Two can play that game, Violence, idiot friends, seriously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-07-12 00:54:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15984137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgana_Ren/pseuds/Morgana_Ren
Summary: After being abducted but somehow escaping a horrible fate, your life has been turned sideways. It's been months now and you're still trying to recover and cope with the traumatic events that occurred in that dark basement. Your friend and roommate, determined to get you back into the groove of things, convinces you to come out for a night on the town despite your better judgement. What's the worst that could happen? After all, it's been months, and Strade is long since through with you, right?





	1. Bars, scars, and memoirs

**Author's Note:**

> Hey folks, a few things to add here.  
> I am well aware now that Strade is pretty... I don't know, OOC in this series? I'll be honest, when I wrote the first part to this, I didn't really know a whole hell of a lot about him. I just liked his path, got drunk, and spit out "Ich Tu Dir Weh" in a night. After reading through his creator's blog however, I am now acutely aware that several things are very off about his character. Not only does he dislike 'problem' people and usually kills them immediately (you know, the ones that fight back too much, sorta like the reader here), but there's just no way he's capable of any sort of mercy (like letting you go in the end?) or probably even able to get any sort of excitement from (sort of) consensual, only semi-violent sex. Real Strade wants to fuck your eyehole and then stomp you to death. This Strade is content just being a general painful dickhead, but not killing you (only you, he'll still hammer nails into other people and then electrocute them to death. It's fanfiction people, you're fucking special). There's a lot of other things that are OOC, and I promise I'm trying to wrap those up in this story. He's not the utterly fucking deranged, psychopath who will drive a drill through your foot and light you on fire, I know, but the story would be over pretty quickly if he just fuckin' killed you, you know? I'm trying to make it all make sense in this story, but who knows how well it'll turn out.
> 
> Also, I am very sorry Ren fans, but he doesn't exist (as of right now) in this story. Partly due to my own incompetence, partly due to the fact that it would be difficult to work him into this. Incompetence wise, I'll be honest (again), Ren's character very heavily reminds me of a kid (I know he's 19 canonically, but his innocence in the original BTD gets me), and I'm just not comfortable writing that, not to mention I'm not good at it. Strade has had 'pets' before, but currently has none, at least locked up in his house. When I started this series, I really didn't realize how important Ren as a character was to Strade, and even when I found out, it sorta musses the flow of the story. Sorry folks...

Sun streamed through my window, little slivers of light cascading from outside and projecting onto my floor. A gentle breeze wafted in through the small crack at the bottom, smelling like sickly sweet flowers and mowed grass. It was a nice day out. The kind of day where you would head out with your family and hang out at a local park or fishing hole or maybe take your friends to the county fair. Not too hot, not sticky or draining, but just warm enough. The sort of day that reeks of sunscreen, screeching kids, and laughter. A good day to be outside.

But I didn’t feel like being outside.

I didn’t feel like leaving my room much at all anymore.

I sat on my bed, staring out the window into the sky, trying to find shapes in the few clouds that hung overhead. I spent most of my time like this now. Sitting here, keeping my mind busy with one stupid thing or another. I had taken the semester off school, using the time to… do nothing. Literally.

I would have driven myself insane cooped up in here before, but now, I went crazy if I spent too long out. I had become a hermit. You know, I would have strangled someone to have the opportunities I have now back then. Presently, everyone was constantly inviting me out, calling me, asking to come see me.

I had friends now. Oh yeah, I had fucking friends.

People had been crawling out of the fucking woodwork after news got out about what happened to me. Everyone from family, to old acquaintances, to people I hadn’t seen or thought about in years suddenly wanted to be my best friend. Everyone wanted to be buddy-buddy with the girl who somehow survived the crazed butcher that had been stalking the state, never leaving anyone but her alive.

Cunts.

No one gave two fucks about me when I was drinking myself to death in a dark room, but you escape one little madman alive and suddenly you’re a goddamn hero. Jesus. I just wanted to be left the fuck alone.

It had been nice, at first. People reached out, awkwardly making conversation, trying to be vague about why exactly they had called. I mean, what do you say to someone who went through what I did? ‘Hey, sorry to hear about your tape ‘n rape, how ya holdin’ up, pal?’ Most people chose not to bring it up at all. It’s like they expected me to fall apart like a cheap marionette if someone so much as acknowledged what happened.

I guess that’s to be expected. I don’t know why I was so indifferent to it most days. Well, not indifferent, but to be frank, I felt more guilty than anything.

Sure, I escaped with my life, but at what cost? I knew what I did. And worse, I had purposely withheld details about who he was, details that might allow the police to catch him. How many people had he hurt since releasing me? How many was I responsible for? How many would I be responsible for?

My therapist, which I had been ‘advised’ to see after the incident, mistook my emotions for survivor’s guilt, telling me what I was feeling was natural, but that I wasn’t responsible for the actions of the man who had taken us. I guess in a way she was right. I did what I needed to survive. Anyone in my position would have done the same, could have done the same. Maybe if they had tried to kill Strade too, he would have given them the best fuck of their life before shoving them out the side of his vehicle in front of a hospital.

She assured me it was okay to be afraid. It was normal. He was still out there, still at large. It was okay to lose sleep and refuse to be alone when leaving the house. It was okay to be terrified of the shadows that moved across dark corners, seeing his face everywhere I looked.

Sure, I had been afraid of him. I still was. But I was more afraid of myself.

Strade had opened me up to parts of myself I didn’t know even existed. I had wanted to kill him. I had wanted him to bleed. I had wanted him inside me. I had wanted him. I wanted him. I had been normal before he had taken me, wanting what every girl wants. A loving girl or boy to hold them tenderly, cuddling them and making them feel important and needed.

These days, I couldn’t even get off unless I imagined someone holding a knife to my throat.

I dreamed of him vividly and often, still seeing his face clearly in my memory. Remembering the smell of him. The feel of his skin and the taste of his blood. What it felt like underneath him. How it felt when he cut me. The sound of my screams and the way he sighed my name.

My therapist assured me that having nightmares was totally normal. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that only half were nightmares. The other half? Well, they were more along the lines of wet dreams. I didn’t know what the fuck was wrong with me.

It had taken a little while during my recovery to discover the change in myself, thrashing and turning beneath my sheets, screaming out into the darkness night after night. Hearing his sadistic laugh, feeling his blade slash against my skin. It was only after a few months that I wasn’t crying for him to stop. I was begging him to continue.

She was patient with me, taking my reluctance to talk about my assault as some way of coping with it. I don’t think she expected much, since she believed I was drugged for most, if not all of it. In reality, the truth was deeply rooted in shame. In all honesty, I didn’t think I’d ever trust anyone enough for the rest of my existence to ever talk about what really happened. I knew. Strade knew. It was a dirty little secret between us, binding us together.

I wondered if he ever felt as ashamed of letting me go as I did about what we did together.

All in all, I’d say the sessions were particularly unhelpful. The rule of therapy was you couldn’t be helped unless you wanted it, and you’d never work through your issues unless you were honest with yourself. If that was the case, I’d never get better. I didn’t want to talk about it, partially because I didn’t understand it myself. I didn’t want to. I was terrified of what I’d become. Whoever Strade had shoved in his trunk outside the bar that night was gone. When I emerged from that basement, I wasn’t the same person. I had been born anew in our blood.

If people couldn’t understand me before, how could they now? A pathetic, lonely girl with a penchant for drinking alone a little too often was too much to handle. How could they ever hope to understand me now? Hell, I couldn’t even understand me now. People were shallow, fickle things.

A knock on my door jolted me from my important thoughts about clouds.

“Hey, you awake?”

I recognized the voice of my roommate. She was the only one I could really stomach these days. We had been fairly close from the get-go, drifting apart when my alcoholism reached a new high, only for her to cling on closer than ever after what had happened. She felt guilty and horrible, like it was her fault somehow. I wonder if she stretched before she made that leap.

I appreciated her concern. It was nice to know someone genuinely cared. That didn’t mean that her constant motherlike supervision didn’t become insanely grating after a while. She did sweet things, like bringing me food, reminding me to shower, and nagging me to leave the house every once in a while, just so I didn’t go bonkers cooped up in here. However, she also made a point to, literally any time we went out, physically challenge anyone who remotely looked my way, making me completely unapproachable. She even called the police station after they yanked my protective detail a few weeks back and lost her mind, telling the detectives that if anything ever happened to me, she would sue the shit out of the department.

I mean, she’s intense, but a good friend. She meant well.

“Yeah, I’m up.” I called, voice low. I wasn’t sure I was ready to deal with anyone today.

She opened the door, peering her head inside. “How you feelin’ today?” Stepping in, she kicked the dirty clothes and debris out of her way. I wasn’t the cleanest person these days.

I shrugged. “Okay, I guess. I was thinking of taking a nap or something.”

“Oh yeah, cause I was thinking that maybe….” I braced myself, rolling my eyes behind my eyelids. Whatever it was she was about to say, I had already decided that the answer was no. “We should go out tonight!”

“Look, I appreciate the offer, but I’m sorta tired. I’d rather just hang back and watch a movie or something.” Black. Steel. Red. Pain. People. Loud. I pushed it down.

“Babe, you’ve been hanging back for months now.” She scooted closer to me, resting her head on my shoulder, lightly scratching her hands over my back. I bit my lip and swallowed down emotion as she lightly grazed over _his_ scars. The ones he raked down my back with his nails when he had violently released inside me. Little puffy disruptions across my skin like broken angel wings. Very poetic for something so disgusting.

Thankfully, she didn’t notice my change in emotion.

“I know, I just don’t really feel like going out much these days. Seems like too much work.” I huffed, eying my bed.

“You know that we’ll be there with you the whole time? You won’t be ever be alone. You’ll have people with you. Not like…” She trailed off. People. Multiple. She was referring to her boyfriend. Nice enough kid. I liked him. Wouldn’t continue to hang out with him if they broke up though. He did play very nicely with me for whatever reason. Kept people off my back to keep her happy.

“I know. I know you wouldn’t just leave me or anything like that. I appreciate it. I just don’t really know if I want to go out right now.” I glanced at the TV. “I hear there’s a new series out I was kinda thinking of watching.”

“I am so not letting you sit in here in the dark, binging on some dumbass cartoon show for another two weeks.” She tried to yank me to my feet, but I grounded myself. “Hon, your therapist even told you that you need to get out to help ease you back in to normality.”

I scoffed, irritated. I just reached under the bed, searching around for the remote.

“I’ll tell you what. If you come out with us tonight, I’ll pay for your rounds, take care of you, buy you food _and_ give you aftercare tomorrow.” She wiggled her eyebrows at me suggestively. “Bring you water and applesauce and everything.”

I laughed despite myself. If nothing else, she did know me. She usually spent her Saturdays curled up with her boy, letting only the wrath of God and her mother pull her away. For her to offer the time up freely, she must have been pretty concerned. She really wanted this. A wave of pity washed over me. She really was trying to be nice, not for some shitty ulterior motive, but because she was concerned about me. I hated it, but I could acquiesce this once, for her sake.

I sighed, preparing myself. “Where were you thinking?

She squealed, grabbing my head in her hands and squeezing. I was already regretting this.

“Okay, so you know that place down on Main? That dance club, ‘The Snake Pit?’ So, this chick from my class knows this guy who is…” Hum. Hum hum hum hum. Hum hum hum. I honestly did not give a fuck which chick was blowing who, and which guy was stealing from where. Get to the point. Hum hum. Hum hum hum. “So long story short, this guy gave me these passes. I guess that DJ he sponsored turned out talented and ended up with a permanent spot. The nights he’s there are super expensive now. But not with these!”  
  
She brandished two obnoxiously colored tickets in front of me. I was tempted to try and talk her into selling them or something. “What about your boytoy? Ain’t he going to want to come? You only have two tickets, and you know I’m not paying that shit.”

She giggled, twirling the tickets around in her hand. “I’ll pretend I didn’t see you zoning out when I was talking to you. My boy works security there now. He can get crazy discounts. They practically throw this shit his way. He’ll be working tonight but he says it’s pretty laid back, so he’ll be around us as much as possible.” Grinning, she bared her teeth and I just curled my mouth into a frown. I didn’t want to go out.

“So, we’re going to be there on a super packed night, shoving through the crowds, having to fight tooth and nail to get to the bar, to the dance floor, to the bathroom, and back to the car. Sounds great.” I scoffed, unable to hold back my bitterness.

“Look, I know it’s not your ideal night, but you need to get the fuck out of here. I know you’re not much of a social butterfly since… well, recently, but that you can’t just lock yourself up in here. It’s not good for you.” She bit her tongue between her front teeth, not entirely sure what to really say without being insensitive. “I’ll even let you borrow that red dress you used to love.”

I exhaled, steeling down the negative waves. “Okay.”

She squealed again, jumping off the bed and scurrying out of the room, only to return a few moments later, tossing the red dress at my head.

“Start getting ready!” She looked so happy. I tried to be enthusiastic as I shot her a smile, but my guess is I looked more pathetic. It didn’t really matter. She wasn’t really looking at me anymore. She had gone somewhere else, no doubt readying herself for the night.

I heaved myself off the bed with as minimal complaining as my brain would allow. Wandering into my bathroom, I wondered how I was going to pull this off. I didn’t have the energy to do this right now, but I had already told her I’d go. I scowled and muttered under my breath as I slipped into the shower, allowing myself to seethe under the hot water until it turned ice cold, and even a few minutes past that.

The big fluffy robe I hung on the back of the door was a life saver, staving off the cold long enough for me to stop shivering and dry my hair, occasionally using the blow dryer as a mini personal heater. I debated whether to get dressed first or make an attempt at my makeup and save the dress for last, finally deciding on waiting. I had gotten too attached to the robe to hang it back up quite yet. Plus, I didn’t want to get any powder or lotion on that dress. The fabric was a bitch to clean.

I pawed around the inside of the bathroom cabinet for a moment until I found my makeup bag. Dust had begun to settle along the top, and I gingerly brushed it off. I guess it really had been a while since I’d left or even really done anything at all. Sighing, I dumped the contents into the bathroom sink, sorting through what I would need and shoving the rest back inside the bag before tossing it aside.

We were going to some sort of nightclub, right? Maybe that meant I could let my more dramatic side out and go a little crazy with the blacks and reds. Not that I didn’t do it anyways when I felt like it, but I wouldn’t look quite so out of place there. Tapping my brushes against the side of the sink to get rid of any excess powers before I started, I just let my mind wander, going on autopilot as I painted and stroked across my face. It was like riding a bicycle. You never really forgot.

A while must have passed without me noticing, because the knock on my bathroom door made me jump.

“Hey, you at least dressed?” She sounded antsy. She wanted to go.

“Yeah, you can come in.” I called back, flicking the mascara wand up against my lashes.

After she opened the door, she paused for a minute, looking stunned. “Wow. I forgot how good at that you are.” I smiled and nodded to be polite, but I still wasn’t dead set on wanting to even go. “But hey! You’re not even dressed yet! Put that thing on.” She shoved the dress at me.

I guess this was happening.

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” I held it in my hands, twisting it around anxiously. Is it too late to like, fake vomit or something?

She teetered out, heels stomping down the hall. I gave a last look at the dress before letting the robe fall from my shoulders to the floor. Reluctantly, I stepped into the dress, slipping it up to my shoulders. It was shorter than I remember. Or maybe I was bigger. Who knew.

I stepped out of the bathroom and back into my room, shutting the door behind me and looking at my reflection in the large mirror hung on my door. It was interesting to see myself in something other than sweatpants for the first time in a long time. I felt exposed. It was ridiculous considering that the worst day of my life happened when I was wearing jeans and a baggy t-shirt.

I pulled and prodded at the fabric, trying to make myself seem more comfortable, both in the dress and in my own skin. Turning, leaning in awkward positions, just regular girl things. Flipping my hair over one shoulder, and then throwing it back, trying to decide how to wear it, thinking what shoes would look best with this, and if I should go for boots or sneakers if I wanted to be quirky. I went to yank the dress down, it was a little short for my tastes.

My hands ran along my thighs. Across the scars. They were blaringly obvious against the otherwise matte skin of my legs. You could see them, even with the dress pulled down. They were so vivid. Barely healed, almost seeming fresh.

The flash of the blade. Crimson blood running down contrasted skin. His laughter as he cut me. Him.

I felt dizzy, unable to breathe. I needed to sit.

I stumbled over to my bed, throwing my head between my hands. Would it ever stop? Would it ever go away? Would there ever come a time when I could see myself without feeling his stench, his hands, his blood all over me?            

“Hey, you alright?” My roommate peaked her head in. I jolted up, shaking my head vigorously.

“Oh! Yeah, yeah! I’m good, just a little light headed. Why, are we ready to leave? I think I’m good to go.” I looked at the clock on the wall.

“Stand up! Lemme see!” Bouncing excitedly, she came in the room, ready to behold her handiwork.

Reluctantly, I pushed myself off the bed, throwing my hands out, jokingly prostrating myself before her.

“Oh my God, you look fuckin’ amazing! You clean up, like, super well! Just kidding, you always look great, but red really is your color!” She beamed at me. I noticed she was clutching her hands behind her back, and I eyed her suspiciously.

“Whaaaat’re you hidin’ there?” I arched a brow at her.

“So, look, I know you’re not big on these, but they will look sooo good.” She sheepishly pulled her hands from behind her, flashing a pair of big black strappy heels.

Automatically, I started shaking my head. “No. Absolutely not. Fuck. No.”

“Come oooon! You’re not just going to clomp around in those lace up boots you always wear. They don’t even go with the outfit. Just once, lemme play dress up!” She pouted, jutting her front lip out dramatically.

“You’ve seen me walk. I fall on my face in flat shoes, let alone those skyscrapers. Besides, they don’t really match my style.” I looked at the shoes. After everything, that would really be an embarrassing way to die. Falling and breaking my neck in some shitty nightclub. Knowing me, that would be my luck.

“You can wear as much black eyeliner and as many studded collars or whatever as you want, but give me one thing and just wear the shoes. Please?” She begged. “Just humor me!”

I grimaced, snatching the shoes from her and sending her a dirty look. “You owe me. Big time.” I held them up in front of my face, trying to discern where the strap ended, and the shoe began. She squeed in happiness, giving me another hug.

“Okay so my boytoy will be here in a few to pick us up. He offered to drive so we can have a good time. Hurry! The sun is going down! It’s time to fuckin’ party!” She danced out of the room. I wish I had her enthusiasm about this. I really did.

I tossed the shoes aside and glanced at my cane, wondering if I should take it with me. After they cleaned up my leg injuries, they had made me walk with a stick for a few months. Turns out the slices in my leg were deep enough to cause some slight muscle damage. It didn’t help that they had re-ripped open during the… physical activities that followed. I eventually recovered well enough to walk fine on my own, but from time to time, it was good to have.

I pondered it for a moment before deciding to forgo it. Fuck that. A girl with a cane in a club? Not to mention, it would just draw attention to my scars and likely elicit questions from people I didn’t care to explain anything to. I would be fine. I just had to be careful.

It took me ten minutes to figure out how the shoes went on, and another ten minutes to get the hang of walking in them enough to not trip and fall flat on my face. Shortly after that, our ride arrived, and I had to cling to her arm while I got my bearings in the shoes. I was relieved when I finally sat down in the car.

They blasted their music loudly with the windows down, cheerfully singing and swaying in the front seat. I sunk down back into my chair. We were drawing so much attention. I just laid my head against my window, trying to drown out the noise, staring aimlessly into the passing scenery. The sunset was nice. I finally just faded out, thoughtless and emptyheaded.


	2. Safer with a Serpent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reluctantly, you accompany your roommate to the club. In an attempt to make you feel comfortable, she introduces you to some of her friends. Just hope you don't have to introduce her to one of your own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who makes a surprise appearance in this chapter? It's ya boi Akira. 
> 
> Look, I'm running out of shit to call roommate and boyfriend, so you're gunna be reading those words a lot. I purposefully left them ambiguous so you can play fill-in-the-blank with your own friends or something.

When we arrived, I felt my stomach sink. This place was packed, the line practically around the block. It was a warehouse looking joint with a bright, multicolored neon sign that read “The Snake Pit”, with the image of a python wrapping around it, sinking its fangs into one of the letters. Corny.

She yanked me out of the car, excitedly wrapping her arm around mine while her other hand entwined with her boyfriend. We started walking toward the building, but instead of heading to the back of the line, we beelined toward the door.

“Hey, aren’t we going to get in line?” I glanced at the patrons waiting in the line, all of which were glancing angrily at us, tapping their feet.   
  
“Perks of the job, babe.” He motioned to the back of his shirt, which read ‘Security’ in large, white letters.

“Ah. Well, that’s one less hour of foot pain for me, I guess.” I shrugged, laughing it off.

A large man wearing the same shirt and holding a clipboard was guarding the steel double doors. I could see fog streaming out from the cracks and hear muffled music blasting from inside. He turned to us, looking ready to tell us to hit the bricks, but when he saw the similar shirt adorning the large man next to us, he smiled, wrapping his hands around her boyfriend and giving him a clap on the back. “Hey mate, you headin’ in for the night?”

“Yeah, man. Another day, another pack of drunks to toss on their asses, right?” They both laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. Security guard humor.

“Good, man. We could use you. It’s Sidewinder’s set tonight, and his fangirls are already getting clingy and belligerent.” He rolled his eyes, motioning to a small group of girls who were giggling wildly, apparently already drunk. “But hey, sorry man, I can’t let them in unless they have passes. You know the rules. Owner has been clamping down about it with the rising popularity.”

Just like that, magic wonderpocket roommate pulled her hand away from mine, fishing into the front of her blouse and into her bra, beaming as she fished the two tickets out from her cleavage and shoved them forward to him. The security guard’s eyebrows raised, and he took from her hand and inspected them.

“A-lrighty then. Head on in ladies.” He ripped them, setting them into a recycling bin at his feet. The crowd behind us groaned loudly, angry at our special treatment. We ignored them as her boyfriend ushered us inside.

It was loud in here, and EDM blasted from speakers that lined the walls. The dancefloor was massive, and every inch was crowded with shakers and movers. We swept past it, heading directly for the bar instead.

“Hey, I gotta head up and report in. I’ll be back down when I can.” He placed a soft kiss on her forehead and gave me a friendly wave. “You two delinquents be careful now.” With that, he turned on his heel and pushed through a wave of people, disappearing into the bowels of the club.

“Let’s get some fuckin’ shots!” She threw her hands in the air beside me, attracting a few confused glances by the other people lining the bar. “Yo Mickaaay!”

A man in a ‘Snake Pit’ shirt wandered over, his face lighting up when he saw her. He leaned over the counter, giving her a friendly half hug. “Hey you! Your boy workin’ tonight?” I guess she came out more than I initially thought if she knew the staff by name.

“Yeah, he just headed up. But that’s not why we’re here.” She motioned to me, introducing us. “We’re here to give this lady a good time.”

“Nice to meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you.” He extended a hand, shaking mine gently.

“All true, I assure you.” I scoffed, eying the deviously smiling friend at my side.

“I hope so.” He gave me a wink. “Just lemme know if I can get anything for you.”

“Hell yes you can, get us some fuckin’ liquor!” She snapped her fingers at him playfully. He smirked at her, grabbing down a bottle from the shelf behind him.

“Alright ladies.” He lined up two shotglasses in front of us, pouring the contents from the bottle into them.

I glanced anxiously over at my roomie. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” I frowned, picking up the glass and swirling it around in front of me. Did I really want to go back down this road? I haven’t really drank since…

I felt her hand on mine. “Hon, you’ve been doing so good lately.” She rubbed tenderly across my skin, looking for the right words to say. “After what happened to you, I was so worried you were going to fall apart… I don’t know how anyone could recover from that and not have some residual damage. But you’ve been so strong and so…” Shaking her head, she dabbed at her eyes. “I’m so proud of you. You deserve to relax and have fun.”

I was touched by her sentiment. Sure, I didn’t really want to be here, but she was trying so hard and going out of her way to try and help me. I grabbed the shotglass, downing it in one go. I hadn’t lost my skills. I slammed it down on the counter and motioned to Mickey. “Another round over here!”

She smiled, hugging me tightly before reaching for her own glass and swallowing it, motioning it out to Mickey as she finished. He laughed, shaking his head as he refilled them.

Things went on like that for a good while. Talking, joking, and laughing between the three of us. Occasionally some blinged up jerk would come over to try and hit on us, scooting a little too close and getting a little too grabby, but Mickey had it under control in a way that amused me greatly. He would motion to her boyfriend who was standing guard on the VIP lounge and say something along the lines of “You see that big fucker up there? He’s bangin’ her. He doesn’t like to share.” And they would back off immediately. I laughed harder each time, getting perpetually more buzzed the more the shots came.

I was feeling pretty good at this rate. It had been at least an hour, and we were both feeling the slurry euphoria. I was laughing insanely hard at some half assed pun Mickey told me when she turned to me, quietly whispering that she’d be right back. She took off through the crowd before I could ask her where she was going. I shrugged it off, turning back to my drink and telling Mickey a joke in turn.

She returned a few moments later with her security boyfriend and some other guy I didn’t recognize following closely behind. She was giggling and play-punching her boyfriend before she faced me. “Hey girlie! I got someone I want you to meet!”

I turned on my stool and came face to face with the man who had followed behind them. He was almost intimidatingly good looking, and it was apparent he knew it. Long, sleek black hair gelled to perfection, flashy yet stylish clothes, and somewhat of a deviant glimmer in his black eyes. He smirked at me, scanning over me briefly before stepping to introduce himself. I felt a blush creep up my neck. “Hey. I’m Akira.” He held his hand out to me.

I took it, shocked by how cold he was. He had pale, porcelain skin and his nails were manicured and well groomed. I was startled again when he lowered his mouth to my knuckles, placing a light kiss on them as he stared up at me through his thick, black lashes. A gentleman, or at least someone pretending to be one.

“Looks like you two are going to get along great!” My roommate nudged her boyfriend, bumping him with her hip. He held her close, placing a gentle kiss on her head. “We’re going to go dance. You two… well, you know the drill.” She winked at me, pulling her reluctant beau onto the floor. Akira took a seat next to me on the stools, leaning casually against the bar as he motioned Mickey for a shot.

“So, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” He arched his brow playfully, downing his shot, intense stare never leaving my face. I put my hands self consciously down on my thigh, trying to cover my scars before he saw them.

“My friend dragged me out. I spent most of my time alone.” I laughed, rubbing my arm nervously.

“Why’s that?” Running his tongue across his lip, I noticed he had particularly pointy canines. I wonder if he filed them or something.

“N-no reason.” I stammered out, definitely not willing to get into the situation with this dude I had barely met and freak him the fuck out ten minutes into meeting him. “What about you? What’re you doing hanging around here?”

He laughed loudly, hissing out air through his teeth as if I’d said something extraordinarily amusing. “I’m the DJ. I work here.”

“Holy shit, you’re Sidewinder?” My eyebrows hit my hairline. “You’re like a celebrity around here or something, right?”

He chuckled. “Or something.”

“Wow. I guess I should consider myself lucky.” I took my shot, starting to feel particularly outgoing. “You’ve got groupies and fangirls up the wazoo looking for you.”

“I’d rather be here with you.” He took another drink. “You’re adorable.”

I flushed hard, smiling despite myself.

“Or better yet, dancing.” He hopped off the stool, holding his hand out to me again, offering it up.

“Wait, don’t you work tonight?” I pushed myself off my own stool anyways, standing to meet him and taking his hand.

“I’ve been working. I’m on my break now. My shit is just on a playlist at the moment.” He motioned to the empty DJ booth. “Besides, I don’t think anyone will mind if I slip off to dance with a pretty girl.”

I bumped him playfully on the arm, and he slithered his own around my waist, beckoning me to the dance floor. I followed him wordlessly, leaning into his touch. People almost seemed to part for him as he led me to the middle, putting his other hand on my waist as well and pulling me closer to him. We swayed to the music, hips grinding and lips lightly dusting over bared skin. His hands eventually drifted lower, and mine pushed up into his locks, gripping and tugging.

I was fairly drunk, still in control, but inhibitions lowered enough that I didn’t push him off when he brought one hand up underneath my chin, pushing my face up lightly to meet him as he pressed his lips against mine. I melted into the kiss, offering no resistance when he opened his mouth, snaking his tongue in and massaging my own.

My head was light, and my thighs were on fire. His hands roamed freely around me, grabbing and caressing. I kissed him back with fervor, grabbing onto him like me was my source for air. As the kiss got more heated, he slowly started kissing down my jaw, settling on my neck, nibbling away playfully. I giggled, hands gently tucked against the back of his head.

He licked and sucked, and I moaned against him, my eyes fluttering open slightly. I was facing the bar, but my vision was blurred from the glaze over my eyes and inebriation. I could almost make out the barstools and Mickey flirting with some girl who leaned seductively against the bar. Good for him. I moaned again against Akira, pulling him tighter against me, egging him on.

“Fuck.” I sighed breathlessly, my eyes rolled up to the ceiling. I could feel him breathing get heavy against my chest as he continued his endeavor. My gaze fell back on the bar, and for a moment I couldn’t quite make anything out. Only colored blurs and bright lights and then…

And then…

Green shirt and beige pants that looked incredibly out of place among the young, hip crowd.

Smile twitching and teeth bared, like a predator watching its meal be devoured by something else.

Fierce amber eyes burning, staring directly at me.  

Strade.

He found me. He fucking found me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More later. Like 15 minutes from now.


	3. Blame it on the Alcohol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your roommate has disappeared somewhere in the club. Maybe wandering off drunk and alone trying to find her wasn't the best idea you've ever had?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, full of dumbassery and tension.  
> Why you gotta make shit weird with Akira when you've only just met? You're lucky he's such a nice guy.

I yelped, panicking. I fell hard into Akira, who jerked away in surprised.

“Woah, girl. If you’re that excited, we can take thi- Hey, what’s wrong?” He ran his thumb over my cheek, brows furrowed. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I tore my eyes away from Strade, looking to Akira instead. I stuttered and stammered, unable to get a sentence out for several seconds, holding a shaky hand up to the bar in leu of words.

“What’s going on?” He turned, pulling me in and wrapping his hands around me. Slowly, I brought my stare back up to the bar, but he was gone. There was someone else there in his place now and there was no sign of him.

…Had he ever really been there in the first place?

I had been drinking, and honestly, I didn’t trust my slipping sanity much in the first place. It was entirely possible that I had just imagined him. I swallowed hard, shaking my head.

“I-I’m fine. Sorry… Just for a second I thought I saw…” I raked my hands through my hair. At first, Akira seemed confused, but after a moment, he opted to leave it, opting to pull me close and stroking my face.

“What, like an ex-boyfriend or something?” He placed a gentle kiss on my cheek.

“Something like that.” I slammed my eyes shut, pushing my head against his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, sweet thing. No one will fuck with you here. Not with me around.” He smiled, cocky and secure. It made me feel a little better, but I was still trembling. He ran his hands up and down my arms, almost like he was trying to warm me up. “Look, if it’ll make you feel better, I can talk to security and ask ‘em if they’ve seen whoever it is you’re looking for, and to throw him out if they do.”

He hugged me tightly to him before pushing me away lightly, bringing my face to his and giving me an innocent peck, waiting for me to respond. I hated myself for acting like such a nutcase on a first date or whatever the hell this was, but I wouldn’t feel safe the entire night if my mind thought there was so much as a chance that Strade was skulking about.

I nodded, thanking him repeatedly and giving him a description of what to look for. Only vaguely, but enough that he would know exactly who he was looking for only if he was actually here. He told me he’d be right back, and I nodded, telling him I was going to look for my roommate, but that I’d be back. We made plans to meet me at the bar. For a minute, I was reluctant. Assuming Strade was real and not a figment of my imagination, that was where I had last seen him. But wherever he was, he wasn’t there anymore. That might be the safest place. I’d see him from a mile away.

Akira gave me one last grin before he took off through the crowd, heading up to the offices in back. I maneuvered through the drunken dancing patrons, doing my best to keep upright. I gripped the bar tightly when I reached it, yelling for Mickey. We probably weren’t on a first name basis yet, but this was an emergency.

“Look who’s back! You looked like you were having a hell of a time.” He shot me a smirk as he polished a glass in his hands.

“Hey, have you seen a dude around here?” I stammered out.

He gave me a disbelieving look. I shook my head, apologizing. “Big guy. Green shirt with a weird logo on the arm? Khaki pants? Big combat boots? Greasy brown hair and a German accent?”

“Sorry chick, most of these people all blend together after a while, and to be frank, I’ve been drinking. Why, he a buddy of yours or something?” I shook my head vigorously, asking if he’d seen my roommate, and shrugged that off too, saying not since she wandered off with her boy.

I swore under my breath, thanking him before asking for another shot. He gave me a curious glance, but obliged. I think he knew not to probe much more. I tried to calm myself down. The bartenders hadn’t seen him and honestly, Strade would look incredibly out of place here. He wouldn’t be hard to spot if he was actually in the vicinity. It was probably just my imagination. I had psyched myself out in my drunken haze.

I sighed, nodding to him before taking my shot. Maybe not the best idea I’ve ever had but it was happening. “Hey, if you see her, will you let her know I’m looking for her? I’m gunna poke around a bit and see if I can find her.”

“Sure, no problem. But..  Is something wrong, love? You look pretty pale…” Frowning, he cocked his head to the side, inspecting me.

“I’m okay, just a little blood sugar trouble!” I sent him a smile as I pushed away, thinking ofS somewhere she might be. She wasn’t on the dance floor anymore, so I checked the bathroom first, but it was just filled with girls taking shots from liquor bottles they smuggled in and primping in the mirrors. I had no idea how to get to the offices, and even if I did, they wouldn’t let me in. It was possible they were back out on the patio making out or smoking. She was a big smoker when she drank.

It took me a few moments to find the patio door, and it was heavy as sin. I was greeted by a blast of cold wind as I stepped out into the night air. It surprised me how empty it was, only one or two spare clubbers hanging around, lazily taking drags off their cigarettes. There was a small fence with a gate surrounding the porch, which lead out into a stretch of alleyway and back into the parking lot. I thought I heard a female voice coming from inside.

My shot was kicking in, and my drunk was returning full force. I felt no shame tapping the people on the shoulder, asking if they had seen anyone matching her description.

“Uh, yeah, I think. Fumbled out into the alleyway with some big security dude. Probably trying to go hook up in the car without his boss seeing them leave.” One of them chortled under his breathW.

“Thanks.” I nodded curtly, unlocking the gate and stepping into the alley.

I called her name a few times but was greeted with nothing but the sound of my own voice echoing. I held on to the wall for support as I trudged deeper into the darkness. I called her boyfriend’s name a few times as well, but no change. I could hear footsteps coming from somewhere, along with a door slam. The smokers had probably gone inside.

I stopped, listening intently for a minute. I didn’t hear any moans or giggles. Wow, they had actually made it back to the car before going at it. I huffed, slightly annoyed. I guess I shouldn’t be. I was supposed to be with Akira after all.

Shit! Akira! He was probably waiting for me at the bar.

I turned on my heel, power walking down the alleyway. Between the booze and the darkness, I was having trouble seeing, so I clung to the wall for guidance. I tumbled a little, my shoe catching on a rock and sending me forward

I crashed into a sturdy body, probably someone who had come out to try to have a cigarette in peace.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, these stupid shoes!”

I pulled myself upright and came forward to face the chest of whomever I had hit. I mumbled out another apology, and it took me a moment to gain my senses. The smell hit me before my eyes could process. I didn’t smell cigarette smoke.

Machine oil.

Copper.

Sweat.

I froze. The world started to spin, and my heart threw itself up into my throat.

_No._

Slowly, I brought my face up, praying to every God I knew that I was wrong. He was backlit, but his large frame and clothes were unmistakable. Even in the darkness, I could see him grinning like a hyena, his eyes almost glowing unnaturally and he bore down into me.

Strade.


	4. Haifisch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's big, he's back, and he's.. really fuckin' pissed at you. Didn't you know? You belong to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what? You really should have just stayed home.

“No! No!” I shoved myself away from him, tripping over my shoes again and landing hard on the ground. I kicked out in front of me, pushing myself away. The asphalt rocks raked against my legs and imbedded themselves in my palms, but I was blind to the pain. I needed to get away. I had to run.

“Hello, _liebling._ ”

Acid and my last meal crawled up my esophagus. Scream. Kick. Fight. Run.

Before I could react, he reached down, smiling like a madman as he wrapped his hands around my arms and pulled me from the ground. I clawed and struggled, but he turned me and threw my chest against the wall, pinning me painfully against him and the building. He wrapped his arm around, gripping my neck from the front while the other dug painfully into my shoulder.

The bricks grated painfully against my face, scraping my skin. I sobbed, hyperventilating. He nuzzled in against the crook of my shoulder. His breath against my neck sent another shiver through my spine. This couldn’t be happening. Not again.

“I’ve missed you.” His stubble cut uncomfortably into my skin. “Have you missed me?”

“Get off me!” I raked my nails into his hands and tried to pry him off, but it was no use. He only tightened his grip. “I have friends here! They’ll know I’m gone! They’ll come looking! The patio is right there, and they’ll see us- see you!”

He inhaled my hair, and I recoiled. “The door is jammed, and no one is going to come for you. I made sure of that.”

My stomach dropped to the floor. “What have you done!” I pounded my fists against him as hard as I could from behind. “If you hurt her!”

He gave a maniacal laugh that made my stomach churn and heave. I could taste the liquor burning in my chest and tears stinging in my eyes. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t real. This was a nightmare, and I would wake up soon. I had to wake up.

“Your friend and her pet are safe… For now.” He twisted my hair around his fingers, pulling harshly at the tendrils. I was relieved to hear she was safe, but only briefly. He pushed his hand up to my scalp, yanking my head back as he took a fistful of my hair. I cried out in pain, trashing against him again. “As for your other little _freund…_ ”

Akira. He had seen me with Akira.

“Does your little boyfriend know about me?” He spat in my ear, his voice barely above a whisper. He dug his teeth into my earlobe, his hand pulling and tearing painfully at my hair. “You know, I should punish you, _mein maus_ , for playing with another…”

The scars on my thighs burned. I knew all too well how cruel his punishments could be. I swallowed a sob.

“Or maybe I should tear him apart for touching my toy.”

“No!” I twisted and turned violently against his grip, trying to block out the pain in my head as he yanked strands of my hair out, digging his nails into my throat. Struggling to breathe against his grasp, I tried to kick back against him. “I don’t belong to you! Let me go! Put me down!” I wailed, voice breaking.

“I told you I would never let you go, my pet.” His voice was sickeningly sweet, almost caring. A mockery of love. My hands shook and my head pulsed. Vision tunneling. Suffocating.

“Get! OFF!” I gave one last shove, thrusting my hips back and knocking him slightly off balance, just enough to loosen his grip and free myself. I tried to run, making it only a few feet before his hand clamped down on my wrist, dragging me backwards. He slammed me against the wall again, pushing my arms onto either side of my head with his hands, his chest flush against me.

He hissed, sucking in a breath, quavering slightly. “Aah… I’ve had so many since you.” _No survivors._ “But none ever… fight me like you do.” He peered down at me, eyes wide and manic. He looked like a rabid animal foaming through his teeth. “None of them excite me like you can.”

I snarled at him, bringing my knee up to his groin. I sure as fuck wasn’t going down without a fight.

“Oh!” He dodged just in time, my knee grazing the front of his trousers. His face was flushed and burning, with his eyelids at half-mast. I knew that look. He licked his lip, gathering my wrists in one hand above my head, using the other to graze my injured thigh. I wriggled underneath him, his fingertips shooting slight prickles of pain up my leg. “They look lovely…”

“I haven’t forgotten how I got them!” I bared my teeth at him, sneering.

He was breathing heavy, burly stomach pushing into mine. He was getting worked up. This wouldn’t end well. He pulled his hand away, reaching behind him. No. _No_. No!

I didn’t need to see it to know what was happening. The knife. It flashed in the dim light, reflecting onto my face. I could see dried blood and little scrapes of flesh stuck to the edges from God knows who or what. My struggling began anew, I knew what came next.

He descended onto me, bringing his head down to meet mine. His tongue lashed across my cheek, coating it in his saliva. I tried to headbutt him, but it came out more of a weak thump. Adrenaline was coursing through my veins, sobering me and making me feel sick. Trapped, like a rat in a cage. His guinea pig. His pet.

He brought the knife up to my soiled cheek, caressing it with the dull end. I pulled my head away, leaning as far away as I could, squeezing my eyes shut in anticipation of the pain.

“Oh, _schatzi_ …”

The knife started to move across my cheek. A slight stinging pain followed by a burning as he gently traced it in a line across my flesh. It wasn’t deep, but I could feel blood begin to leak down onto my chin. Hardness against my thigh from inside his pants. I trembled as he pulled the blade away, peaking my eyes open, almost afraid to look.

His lips were open and moist, tongue sliding across his upper tier of teeth. He looked entranced. He brought the knife to his face, and I cringed as he ran his tongue across it, lapping up my fluid.

“Y-you’re fucking disgusting.” I retched, swallowing a load of bile back down.

His breath came out like an asthma attack, breathy and strained. Like he couldn’t formulate words.

“You’ve had your fun, now let me go.” I pleaded, knowing it was futile. His fingers never relinquished their hold on my arms.

“I’ve told you once before.” He placed the knife back in its holster, and I gave a small sigh of relief. “This is far from over.” He grabbed my face, digging his thumb into the fresh cut, his fingers digging into the soft skin of my corresponding cheek. I winced, stoning myself against the scathing pain.

He crashed his lips down on mine, smearing my lipstick across our faces. The sudden jerk slammed my head against the wall, grinding painfully against the texture. I gasped in pain and he took the opportunity to force his tongue into my mouth. I could taste it again. My own blood. I kicked and fought against him, trying to wriggle my way free, but he gave no quarter. Instead, I opted to fight how I could.

Growling, I bit down hard, gnashing my teeth into his tongue and lip. I felt his breath hitch, inhaling sharply in surprise. He pulled away for a moment, only long enough to bring his hand up to his lip, dabbing at the mess I’d made of his mouth. His expression twitched, and for a second I thought he might punch me. Instead, he grinned deeply, flicking his tongue across the small, pooling wound, staring deviously down at me.

“Mmm…” I watched him swallow. My head reeled.

“Oh God.” Anger and fear swirled like a caustic mix in my belly. Something else too, but I couldn’t place it and didn’t care to. “You’re just as sick and fucking demented as I remember.”

“And you’re just as delicious.” He kissed me again, and I fell slack against him, simply letting him do as he pleased. He continued for a moment before pulling away, some unreadable expression on his features.

My eyes shot open as he slammed his hand against my neck, blocking my airway. His grip was cruel and unforgiving. I wiggled my hands uselessly above me, choking and sputtering.

“I’m going to let you go now. If you attack me, I’ll crush your neck beneath my boot.”

I nodded as much as I could, vision beginning to blot.

He pulled his claw from my wrists, letting my hands fall limply to my sides as he loosened his strength against my neck as well, just enough that I could breathe. I gulped down air, coughing and spitting onto his arm.

“You’re going to go home, and you’re going to act like this never happened.” He put his face to my ear, whispering. “You’re not going to say a thing to any of your friends or the police. If you do, and I _will_ know, I’ll kill them. All of them. Slowly. I might just do it anyway for fun. You understand this, _ja?_ ”

“I’ll do whatever you say, just don’t hurt them. Please don’t hurt them.” I felt a tear trickle down my cheek, mingling with the blood as it slid down.

He patted my cheek. “But that depends on you, now doesn’t it? Are you going to be a good little pet? Are you going to behave?”

I nodded again, swallowing a cry. This was a nightmare. This was a nightmare and it was never going to end.

“Good girl.” He relinquished my neck, rubbing his thumbs harshly across my cheeks, cleaning up the blood and mascara that was staining my face. When he was satisfied, he pulled away, pushing me further into the dark alley and down towards the parking lot. “Now go. And know that I will be seeing you again. Soon.”


	5. Bad Things Happen to Good Shoes in Dark Alleyways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's like death. You know he's coming, but you don't know when, and you dread it. Doesn't mean you can't do everything in your power to prepare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written as a one shot, so some of the transitions between chapters are clunky. Forgive me.

I stumbled down the walkway, not daring to look back at him as I heard a chuckle rumble from deep in his chest, dark and cruel. It took every ounce of energy and strength I had not to collapse into a ball on the ground and weep. He was still there, still watching. I could feel it.

I walked in a haze back to the car. No one gave a passing glance, just assuming I was some drunk girl trying to get home. I leaned against the side of the vehicle, hand reaching up and rubbing my neck. There would be bruising. I felt a droplet of liquid trailing down my cheek again. Whether it was the blood or tears, I don’t know.

It almost felt like a hallucination when I heard her voice again, high pitched and excited as she exited the club, clinging tightly to her lover.

“Hey! We were looking for you! We couldn’t find you inside so we thought we’d- Holy shit, what happened to you?” She shoved him aside, running to me. An excuse. Think. Fast.

“I-I told you I was going to fall in these damn shoes.” I forced a humorless laugh, hoping I just appeared drunk and stupid.

“Did you fall down a flight of stairs?” She ran her hands across my face, feeling the scrape wounds from the brick and then the cut from the blade. Eying my neck suspiciously, she pulled me harshly to the side. “How did this happen. Don’t lie to me.”

“I went to l-look for you on the patio and got locked out. I tripped over some rocks on the ground and got beat up a bit. It’s fine, really.” I kept glancing back to the entrance of the alley. It was too dark to see if he was there, but somehow, I knew he was watching.

“And your neck? It’s all red. How’d you manage that?” She didn’t believe me. I could hear it in her voice.

“My necklace got caught and tangled around me. It’s no big deal, really. My fault for wearing ridiculous jewelry.” I waved it off.

Her eyes narrowed, and I could tell she was skeptical. I tried to smile. She opened her mouth to speak again, but I cut her off.

“I just haven’t drank in a while. My tolerance isn’t what it once was. I did a stupid thing and it had consequences. It’s okay, just a few little bumps and bruises. Don’t worry about it.”

She looked back at the club, and then her boyfriend. He shrugged, unsure of what to say or think. Instead, she just sighed, shaking her head. “Come on, let’s get you home. It’s getting late anyway.”

Ushering me into the car, we all piled in and left the Snake Pit. We drove in silence, and I didn’t mind. I don’t know what I would really say to them right now. I kept my head down, trying to keep from betraying what little calm I had. The ride home felt like it took ages.

He dropped us off, telling us he’d be back in the morning. She didn’t look back at him as he drove off, only kept her sights on me, waiting for me to crack now that he was gone. I couldn’t. I had to keep her safe. Strade would kill her.

No. Not kill her.

Death would be a mercy.

She escorted me up to my room, helping me kick the shoes off and prop myself up in bed. I lazily slipped into pajamas and she did the same, sliding down next to me on the mattress as she flipped on the tv. We sat quietly together, watching some show on low volume. Screams and pleading went unspoken from me, and questions and speculations went unsaid from her. She knew I would talk when I was ready. I never would be.

“Oh hey! I almost forgot!” The sudden noise from her made me jump. “Akira wanted me to give you this!” She fished her hand into her pocket, pulling out a business card with a phone number written on the empty side. His personal phone number. I shakily took it, looking it over. “He also wanted to apologize. He wanted to meet you back at the bar, but something went wrong with the sound system. Someone yanked the wires out from the speaker or something. He had to go fix it and then go back to work.”

 If Strade knew about Akira… How safe was Akira going to be if he ever saw me again?

“Don’t take that lightly. Akira is a total womanizer. He usually fucks people in the bathroom and boots ‘em. He must really like you.” She shot me a smirk, feeling rather proud of herself. “I knew you two would get along.”

Could Strade hear me? What could I say, and would he know? How did he even know I was going to be at the club tonight? “Y-yeah, he was a… cool dude.”

“You thought he was a little more than just cool, from what I heard from Mickey.” Grinning, she arched her brow at me.

Fear pulsed through me. Change the subject, change the fucking subject.

‘ _Maybe I should tear him apart for touching my toys.’_

“Ha-ha! Yeah!” I laughed anxiously. “Hey, do we have any water?”

“Oh, yeah! Shit, I forgot. My bad. I’ll grab you some.” She hopped off the bed, scurrying into the kitchen. I swallowed down emotion, forcing back the sob that was lingering on the tip of my throat. I shook my head, blinking away the tears.

“Here you go, hon.” She waltzed back into the room, handing me the glass. I shakily took it from her, drinking deeply and downing whatever residual feelings I had.

She put her head on my shoulder, laying her hand on mine. Eventually we drifted off like that. I felt safer with her around, but I knew that was foolish. I would never be safe. Never again. Strade had made that very plain.

The only dream I had that night was the color of his eyes. Engulfing me. Drowning me. Suffocating me. An amber ocean with no end in sight. Hopeless.

I awoke to find her gone. The bed was still warm. Did he…?

I called for her, anxiety raking through me. Was she safe? No answer. I called out again, crawling out of the bed. Needed to find her.

“Hey, woah, you okay?” She appeared in the doorway, holding a breakfast tray. “Are you that hung over?”

“Oh… No.” Relieved, I exhaled. “Just half asleep.”

She giggled, putting the tray down and pushing me back up into the bed. “Well, as promised, here’s your food!”

It smelled excellent. I dug in, feeling absolutely starved. I ate like a wild animal, hardly stopping for air.

When I was finished, she took my dishes. “So, we’re gunna have a movie day downstairs. You want to join? Or I could send him off and we can just have a girl day.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I’ll come down and hang out with you guys. Just let me wash my face real quick.” I felt better with her boyfriend around. I knew it wouldn’t stop Strade if he really wanted to get at me or her, but he was a big guy and could probably hold his own fairly well, even against a bigger guy like Strade. The more people the better right now.

She headed off into the den, and I made my way into the bathroom. I nearly screeched as I looked in a the mirror. Holy hell.

I looked like a wreck. Makeup was splashed and smeared all across my face, the cut on my cheek bleeding slightly. The scrapes from the wall were starting to scab over, rough and patchy on my jawline. Worse, when I looked closely enough, I could see finger shaped bruises forming in deep purple and yellow across my throat like some macabre necklace. I was lucky she hadn’t noticed, since that would definitely arouse suspicion.

It took a bit of doing, but I was able to wash my face, trying to scrub around the cuts as gently as possible. When I was finished, I could see just how bad the damage was. It looked like I got into a fight with a noose and lost, and my cheek was red and angry. I could cover the bruising with a turtleneck or a high neck blouse, and I’d just patch my cheek up with a bandage.

When I finally made it downstairs, they started the movie. All of us crammed on the dingy little sofa together, passing popcorn back and forth. For a little while, things seemed normal again. All day until sunset, we cuddled together, watching flick after flick. We must’ve all passed out at some point, because when I felt them stir, the sun had gone down, and the screen was sitting on the menu.

“Shit, I gotta head out, babe. We’re setting up for a concert tomorrow and I gotta get to bed.” He stood up, picking up the debris and carrying it into the kitchen to throw it away. She nodded sleepily, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders as she plucked herself off the sofa, wishing us a tired goodnight as she wandered down the hall into her room. He said his goodbyes to me, shutting off the TV and turning the lights off.

Alone.

I almost pleaded for him to stay, wanting to offer to drive him to work if he just stayed here. It was so stupid. He couldn’t protect me. I’d be putting him in danger, even. The best thing I could do was keep my distance from them. The further from me they were, the safer they’d be.

I made my way back to my room, treading the darkness carefully. After I shut and locked my door, I slipped under the covers, hiding from the ghost of him that played on the corner of my vision. I turned my TV up loud and bright, a stupid mechanism I’d had since childhood that made me feel slightly better about a dark room.

I spent the next week exactly like that.

I burrowed deeper and deeper into myself. My roommate stopped by a few times to make sure that I was taking care of myself, but she had work and class and between the two, she was too tired to question anything. I hoped she hadn’t noticed the missing kitchen knife. I slept with it under my pillow.

When Friday rolled around, she knocked on my door. I opened it, hesitantly letting her inside.

“So, I was shopping earlier today, and after talking to this dude in the camping section, I bought a tent on a whim. Awful, I know. I shouldn’t spend the money. But we’re gunna go on a camping trip this weekend. You maybe wanna come?” Her invite was sincere, but I could tell I’d be a third wheel. On top of that, being out in the deep, dark woods in the middle of no where with no phone service, no shelter and no one else around for miles seemed like a horrifying prospect given the circumstances. Nowhere to run. I might as well invite Strade and offer to introduce him. It was begging for trouble.

“No thanks. Camping isn’t my thing. I like sleeping on a mattress.” I tapped my bed. “You guys have fun though!”

“I’m hoping I’ll get a little romantic surprise, if you know what I mean.” She nudged me sheepishly as she jumped off my bed. “We’re gunna head out soon, so if you change your mind, it’s gotta be quick.”

I nodded, slyly trying to push the knife deeper behind the pillow and very slyly tugging my neckline up to hide the vibrant bruising that wrapped around my neck. I didn’t need her questioning things.

“Oh, hey, give Akira a call or text or something. He was asking about you. We’ll be gone, and I’m sure he could give you some company.” She drew out ‘company’ suggestively before shutting the door.

In any other scenario, my phone would have been in my hand before she even finished that sentence. I genuinely liked Akira, and from what she said, he liked me too. But it wasn’t safe. Strade’s words echoed through my mind. I didn’t want him to hurt Akira. It was better if he just forgot about me all together.

I heard her leave shortly after that. Her boyfriend honked outside and she rushed out the door, bags scraping behind her. In the silence of the moment, I realized just how terrified of the empty house I was. I was alone. Truly. No one would be around to save me if something went wrong. No one to hear me scream. It was pointless. If he wanted to get to me, he could get to me whether I was alone or in a room full of people. He had done it multiple times before, and he could do it again. Part of me resigned to my fate, feeling like crying at the thought.

The other part of me tensed my hand around the handle of the knife. If I was going down, he was coming with me. He wasn’t leaving this unscathed. Like hell. Sadistic prick or no, if I was going to lose my life, he was going to lose some limbs.

I got up, walking around the house, locking all the doors and windows in the process and pulling the blinds. There was no way I was going to make this easy. I armed our alarm. I didn’t know how well it worked, since we hardly ever used it, but it didn’t hurt to try. This thing was loud as hell when the batteries started to die, so I could only imagine what it was going to be like when it actually went off. If someone came in through one of the doors, I’d be difficult for them not to alert me, to say the least.

I returned to my room, leaving the door open and flipping on the lights in the halls. Unless he somehow disabled the power, I would see him coming. There was only one way into my room, and that hall was it. I left the light in my room on for extra measure. There was no way this son of a bitch was going to sneak up on me.

I sat in the corner facing the door all night, knees pulled to my chest and hand gripped tightly around the knife. I kept my TV off, so any noise would rouse me. I fell asleep like that, if you could call it sleep, drifting in and out of light unconsciousness until the sun rose, peaking through my blinds and shining on me. There were worse ways to wake up. Luckily it seemed like I had avoided one of the worse options.

For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter name reads like a Panic at the Disco song title.


	6. Local Dumbass Tries to Understand Motives of Serial Killer, Hurts Herself in Confusion.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feels like a shame to waste a Saturday sitting on the front porch pretending to read, but damned if you're not going to do it. Even more damned if you're not going to try to understand what the fuck going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bitty baby chapters. Cute.

When I woke up, I anxiously checked every room and closet, anywhere he could hide. The alarm was still armed and the locks were still in place. I figured I was safe. For now.

I ate a light breakfast before opening the front door and sitting on the porch. I brought a book with me for appearances, but I doubted I would be doing much reading. If Strade tried to get at me in broad daylight, our neighbors would see. I was safest in plain view. At least until sunset. Then I just needed to last the night. My roommate would be back from camping tomorrow, and I doubt even Strade would try to take on a house with multiple people in it, especially when one of them was painfully aware of his plans to break in.

It was a slow, monotonous day, racked with nerves and anxiety. Every passerby on the street caught my immediate attention, but it was usually just kids jostling back and forth to classes and back home and the occasional car. Sometimes people would wave and be friendly, but for the most part, they left me alone.

By about 3 pm, I was sweating and overheated. I was almost starting to get more resentful about the measures I had to take to avoid him over the fact that this was happening at all. I tried to keep myself busy by thinking about the situation step by step logically.

Maybe I was wrong about him wanting to kill me or finish the job or whatever it was people like him do. He had found me and let me go twice now. He was keeping me alive for something, but I didn’t know what. I knew he was a sadist, but maybe the pure physical torture just didn’t give him the jollies like it used to. Maybe he was trying his hand at mental manipulation and mind-breaking. Was he threatening to hurt my friends purely to keep me in line and his existence a secret, or was he isolating me?

I had gotten curious and looked up his ‘handiwork’ on my phone once.  It was brutal, hard to look at even. Only a few bodies had been found but a lot of people were missing. He had found some way to dispose of the corpses since then, and he had never been caught. He was efficient, a natural at this even. But he had let _me_ go. Why? It wasn’t his MO. Compared to the rest of his victims, I got gotten off unbelievably light. I needed to understand.

I thought back to the last night he kept me. He had fully intended on torturing me again, stopping only when he noticed I had somehow slipped my bonds and gotten ahold of a weapon. I don’t think he expected to me to get the drop on him and be fast enough to manage to actually attack him, but he had been cocky about it, putting himself in harms way by getting too close without protection. Had all his other victims been incredibly meek and submissive? At least enough to lull him into a sense of security when it came to dealing with them?

That brought me to our… encounter. I couldn’t bring myself to call it anything else. He had become incredibly aroused remarkably fast when I fought back, taunting him, even. He had gone from sadistic madman hellbent on bleeding me dry to attentive, albeit not tender. He liked it rough, but then again, I guess so did I. For a minute during the act, he seemed like he was struggling with himself, trying to convince himself to kill me. Was that why he was keeping me alive? Some cat and mouse game that involved violent sex, slashing at each other, and feeding off my fear until I turned as insane as he was?

Right before he let me go, he had kissed me. Not forceful and dominating like the last time, but almost endearingly. Granted, he had knocked my lights out several seconds later, but it was extremely out of character for him. For a second, he seemed almost like a normal human being. And then he had released me. Well, physically at least. Granted, he lost his shit for a few minutes, ripping his hair and breaking his hand. What the fuck was that about?

The other night, he said I that no one had ever excited him like I did. Somewhere along the line, I had done something that spared me a horrible fate and in a twisted way, endeared me to him. He didn’t love me, I didn’t find him capable of love, but he… refused to outright kill me, even when I could have outted him to the police. I still didn’t understand why I didn’t do that. Too late now.

I wanted answers. I knew soon enough, I’d probably get the chance to ask him myself.

I kept myself busy in my thoughts until dusk. I slunk back into the house, locking all the locks and rearming the alarm. I ran up to my room, taking the worlds record breaking fastest shower. I left the bathroom door and my door open, so I’d still be able to hear around me. I was at my most vulnerable now, so I needed to be quick.

When I was safely dressed and dried off, I sat in my place back in the corner again, though I brought my book with me this time. Any movement would catch my eye, so at the very least, I could be entertained while I feared for my skin.

The sun went down, and a few hours in, my body gave into the mental stress, starting to feel awfully sleepy. I just needed to last the night, and then my roommate would be back.  What happened after that… I don’t know. I couldn’t exist like this. I needed to figure something out, get the drop on him somehow. But first things first.

I got up, setting my book on the floor beneath me. I made my rounds, checking all the doors and windows, making sure the alarm was still in working order. I tried hard to think if there was anything else, anything at all I could do. If he was going to strike, it was going to be tonight. I needed to be sure.

I piled up some spare pots we had laying around up against the front and back doors. I doubted Strade was small enough to squeeze himself through a window. If he managed to get one of the doors open and the alarm failed for whatever reason, I would hear the pots hit the floor. Just to be absolutely, doubly safe.

I headed back up into my room, putting the knife in front of me as I sat back down, opening my book to read a few lines before I let myself sleep. I was on edge, but the sun and boredom had worn me out. I would survive the night. I had prepared. If Strade dared to walk in here, he was in for a fight.

Slowly, I let myself fall asleep. If I woke up the next morning when the sun was out, I could safely say I was going to be okay, at least for the next little while. Besides, I was useless on no sleep. Better to have my wits about me.

Time passed. I don’t know how much. I must have slipped into a deeper slumber than I thought, because I almost didn’t comprehend when I heard the pots crash


	7. Come With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strade is an artist at chipping away everything you thought you knew about yourself. Maybe he has a different shape in mind for his artwork. 
> 
> You'll get the answers you want, but everything comes with a price.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, guys, really, this story is just pure, fuckin gross self indulgence. Painfully so. Like even reading over it, I cringe at myself. By continuing to read, you are accepting that and I am not responsible for any cringing/wincing/second hand embarrassment or scowling you do.

The alarm was screeching from the front room, and I heard a muffled voice coming from the den. Adrenaline shot through me, and I immediately grabbed the knife, holding it out in front of me. I prayed that my roommate had just come home early. I really, really did.

I called out her name, beckoning her. “Hey, is that you?”

No response. I yelled for her again. Nothing. Alarm was still screaming in my ears. Too much noise. Too much happening. Breathe. Focus.

I heard thumping and pounding coming from downstairs, and then very loud banging.  Someone hitting the wall? Something clattered to the floor and the alarm ceased. It was dead silent for a moment. I kept the knife held out, pushing myself further into the corner.

I heard thumping coming towards the hallway. Footsteps.

I don’t think it was my roommate. Not with the dainty little sandals she always wears. It was the type of heavy footfall that comes from boots. Big black combat boots. His boots.

It was him. He was here.

I swallowed down the urge to vomit. Adrenaline made my hands quiver as I slowly stood, bracing myself against my bedroom wall.

“Strade! I know it’s you, you fucking coward! Show yourself!”

Slowly, he came into view. His head was down, and his knuckles were bleeding. I could hear him chuckling under his breath. Had he literally bashed the alarm off the mount?

He brought his head up, eyes meeting mine. He was grinning, and I narrowed my eyes at him, glaring in return. No fear. No hesitation. No mercy.

“You are a crafty one, _mein liebe._ ” He tutted at me. “The alarm I expected, but the pots? Now that was clever.”

“Back. The fuck. Off.” I threatened him with the knife as he stalked down the hallway, coming closer.

“You brought your own toys this time! That was sweet of you! So thoughtful.” Closer, and closer. He didn’t seem intimidated.

“If you think for a second I’ll spare you this time, I got news for you.” I flashed the blade at him again, turning it in my hand. “I’ll cut your neck and your heart out this time, just to be sure.”

His face flushed and he simpered at me. “I love when you talk dirty to me. You always know just the right things to say.”

“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Fucking despicable freak. I’ve taken you down once before. I’ll do it again and finish the job this time.” I crouched low, getting ready to lunge or run, I hadn’t decided which yet. I didn’t honestly think that I’d be able to take Strade out in a one on one match, especially without the element of surprise, but bravado counted for a lot. If I could wound him enough to run, I could lock him in and call the police. He was bigger than me, but I was faster than he was.

He cocked his head at me, reaching behind and grabbing his knife from the holster and then positioning his arms out wide, daring me. Calling my bluff.

I needed to strategize. Buy some time. I thought back to my previous questions. If I was going to die this way, I needed to know.

“Before I take this knife and cut you open, I need to know something.” He blinked at me, waiting for my question. “I need to know why me.”

He paused for a minute, looking pensive. Searching for the right words to say, if he even knew what it was.

I eyed my phone when he looked away, wondering if I could somehow dial 911 without him noticing. No…  Too risky.

“Why you, you ask?” He tapped the knife against his lip. “You know, I wondered that myself for a time.”

“I don’t care about your fucking musings, get to the point.” I stabbed the knife in the wall behind me for punctuation, and his face turned a deep red color as he smiled slowly. “I’ve seen your work. I know who you are. I’m your only survivor. Why? Why are you tormenting me?”

He clicked his tongue on his teeth, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning casually against the wall.

“When I saw you that night at the bar, you looked so… Desperate. So weak. So submissive.” He drew out the last word, pronouncing every syllable. I gave him my best ‘fuck you’ face but let him continue. “I thought you would be perfect. All alone with no friends, and no one to help you. A sad little girl all alone. People like that are always so emotionally wrecked that they trust any friendly face. It’s normally so easy…

“But you…” He pointed the knife at me, cocking an eyebrow. “Like I said earlier, you’re clever. You saw through me somehow. You knew something was… off, didn’t you?”

I nodded, and he scoffed, shaking his head.

“No matter. I had made up my mind to bring you home by that point, so it was just a matter of following you out and waiting for the right moment. You were so preoccupied with your loneliness, you didn’t see me slip into the alley behind you. I knocked you out, tied you up, put you in my trunk and headed home. I thought it was just the regular drill after that.”

He looked to the side, lip twitching slightly. “But when I went into the basement the next day, you were… not what I was expecting. The meek, shy little _häschen_ from the bar was fierce. I could see the rage in you when I looked in your eyes. You weren’t just going to take it lying down.”

I blushed at his wording and he tittered.   
  
“So, you are a coward. You like them weak and mild.” I don’t know why I was prodding him. That was probably a bad decision. None the less, he didn’t seem to care.

“I like them breakable, _Süßling,_ there’s a difference.”

I rolled my eyes as he went on.

“I contemplated killing you right then and there. I could tell you were going to be a problem. I don’t like problems. But I already had you, and you looked so cute with blood on your face. I figured I could break you. It might take a day or two, maybe even three. You’d either submit to me or I would kill you. I was fine either way.” He tapped a finger on the shaft of the blade, biting his cheek for a moment.

“I thought you’d have learned a lesson after I sliced you. I thought you’d fear me, what I could do to you. What I would do to you… But again, not you. You were madder than ever.” He licked his lips. “You escaped your ties that very night. Instead of foolishly trying to escape, which would have ended in your immediate death, you used your freedom to find a weapon. To fight.”

Waving the blade lazily around his face, he shrugged. “I’ll admit, I figured I might have tied your bonds a little loosely, but to be perfectly honest, I was a little curious what you’d do if you escaped. When I stepped back into the basement and you were looking less scared and more angry, I figured that you had made it out, and even managed to slip back in to try and cover it up. All it took was seeing the little swatches of your blood on my fridge and cabinet to prove it.”

“You knew and you still risked it?” I stared at him disbelievingly. He gave a curt nod.

“I knew you had the knife, just not where it was hidden. When you… pinned me, I knew I had been bested. You caught me off guard. I didn’t expect you to lunge at me and tackle me to the ground that instant. I expected you to wait until my back was turned, or until the next night to try and sneak up on me. I was prepared for everything.  Everything but you.” He started to walk closer, and I held the knife up again. “For a second, I really did think you were going to kill me.

“But when you were on top of me, digging the knife in my neck, whispering those sweet words to me, I realized…You could kill me right then and there, but I’d never felt more… Alive. You, this nobody girl I tied in my basement, had beaten me at my own game. I’d never wanted anything so badly in my life as I wanted you then. I knew in that moment that I had to have you.” He shivered, sighing long and loud. “I knew you wouldn’t kill me. Because you’re just like me. And you wanted it.”

“I am _nothing_ like you!” I growled. “And no, I didn’t! You forced yourself on me!” The accusation made me unnervingly angry because deep down, I knew he was right. I had wanted him. Even after everything. Part of me still did. Part of me I was terrified of.

“Oh? Is that what happened? Because I seem to recall you _begging_ for me.” His laughter was sinister and boisterous.

If I lost my temper, I’d likely end up dead. Keep your cool.

“You still haven’t explained jack-shit. You had me. You cut me. You fucked me. You got what you wanted. You could have killed me. Why am I not dead? And why are you here now after you’ve already had your fill?”

“Oh, I’m far from had my fill. The only thing that even remotely compares to you was my first kill. After our little exchange, I started… feeling things. Things I hadn’t felt before. Things I didn’t want to feel. I admit, I panicked. I needed you gone, if only for a while. I needed to… understand. You’re like… a high. A high I haven’t been able to reach since. I love the sounds of screaming and the sniveling broken little things I keep in my basement until I’m bored, but you… You always keep me guessing, on my feet. Even when you cry and plead. Someone on equal footing.” He flicked his tongue. “A partner, even. I let you go because I knew you wouldn’t turn me in or say anything at all. You’d even come to miss me. And I was right.”

“I told you! I’m nothing like you! You’re a twisted, psychotic son of a bitch!” I snarled, my anger flaring.

“Oh, you can lie to yourself all you want, _Engelein._ I’ve seen the real you. I’ve seen the real you and it’s covered in blood and sweat on my basement floor. I’m the _only_ one who knows the real you.” His eyelids drifted lazily down, a look of contentment on his face. He was loving this. “You know, normally, I’d have kept you. Locked you in with me. But I don’t trust my self around you. I get too excited, you see. I tend to… Kill things I care about. Hurt people beyond repair. I knew I’d end up killing you if I kept you too close. I couldn’t have that.”

“So, you’re not here to kill me?” I looked at him warily. Was he lying?

“Don’t think I haven’t thought about it. This isn’t normal to me. I’ve never gotten… attached before. Plus, you’re dangerous.” He laughed again. “You won’t scream and cower and cry. You’ll go down scratching and fighting. At least until you see. Until you understand.”

“Understand what?” Did I want to know?

“That you _want_ it.” His face was stone. He whole heartedly believed what he was saying… Did I? No. No!

“You’re fucking delusional. No one enjoys being tortured. No one enjoys the things you do.” I narrowed my eyes on him again.

“Oh, I hadn’t even begun on you. You should have seen what I had planned. It was going to be beautiful. But now I have… other plans.” His smile made me even more nervous than I already was. I was going to throw up.

“W-what plans?” If I could somehow get him over here and switch our positions, I could buy myself some time by slamming my door and making a break for it.

“You will submit to me, my pet. You’re a little brat now, but that can be fixed. You’re mine. You will accept it eventually, and I’ll be here to remind you, no matter how long it takes.” He began advancing on me again, and I tried to ready myself for whatever was coming. I had somewhat of an advantage. I knew he didn’t want to kill me. He could, but he wouldn’t.

“Isn’t my wildness what’s keeping me alive? Why would I submit when you’ll just kill me the second I do?”

“I told you, _liebling._ It’s not your fire that keeps me enraptured. It’s the fact that you’re just… Like.. Me.” His pupils dilated. He was readying himself for whatever was going to come next. Antagonizing me.

“I told you to stop saying that.” I grunted, shutting my eyes, trying to breathe.

“It’s buried deep, but it’s there. You know it too, don’t you? Is that why you’re so angry? You’re afraid I will help you find it, or worse, embrace it?” He flipped the knife in his hand, just waiting.

“Shut the fuck up!” My grip on the handle was starting to hurt, knuckles straining white against the plastic.

“You _like_ it when I hurt you. You _like_ it when I hunt you. And you _love_ it when I fuck you!”

I saw red.

So much for strategy.

Just before I lunged, I saw his lip curl and his hands raise up, ready for me. “Come to me, _mein liebe_.”

I ran into him full strength, elbowing him in the stomach and sending us both toppling to the floor. I tried to stab at him with the knife in my hand, but he was prepared, using his arm to slam it to the floor before I could hit him. He used his momentary advantage to roll over on top of me, lightly flicking his own knife against my exposed upper arm. I yelped in pain, kicking my legs furiously hoping to either buck him off or at least hit his back. He was just too strong. I tried to move my weapon arm but he dug his elbow in deeper.

He slashed the knife again just above the first cut, deeper this time. I cried out, my voice husky and strained. It stung like a motherfucker, but the blade was so sharp that it didn’t rip the skin, making a clean cut instead. A dull ache. I could take it. Keep fighting. He had my arm trapped, but my wrist was free. I flipped my own knife towards myself and flicked my wrist down hard, jabbing the tip into his forearm and slicing.

He howled in pain, pulling his arm away in surprise. Before I could start swinging, he pushed his blade to the artery in my arm, almost daring me to move. His lips parted as he inspected his wound. Rivulets of blood dripped off his flesh and onto my carpet. He leaned down, licking up the gash and tasting himself. Then he beamed down at me, bringing the back of his hand high up before striking me hard across the face.

I dazed out for a moment, seeing triple. That was going to leave a mark. When I managed to look back up at him, he threw his head back, his howling laughter echoing through the room. He gently brought his hand down to my chest, pushing against it, feeling the rise and fall of my breathing and heartbeat.

“See? We’ve only just begun and already you’re excited!” He smiled, red staining his teeth. He looked like a wild animal, as he frequently did.

“Go to hell.” I hissed through my teeth.

“Come with me.”

And with that, he kissed me, a mixture of saliva and blood mingling together in our mouths. I tore at the cut I had made a week prior with my teeth, but he seemed immune to it. I only succeeded in swallowing more of him as it bled down into my throat. His hand crept up to my high collar, rubbing it between his fingers before tearing it away, ripping my shirt. I gasped in surprise, almost moving my hand to cover myself before he pushed the edge of the knife a little deeper into my wrist as a warning. If I moved, I died.

He pulled himself up from me, sitting up before letting his eyes examine my exposed upper chest. His mouth fell slack and he exhaled shakily, bringing his hand up and tracing his fingers around the vivid bruising around my neck.

“I did this, _ja?_ ” His tongue flashed across his teeth as he ran his fingers across it possessively.

“I don’t know any other full-time psychos that have a penchant for choking me until I pass out.” I took the moment to recover my breath. Think. There’s a way out of this. There has to be.

“You look so good like this… I can’t wait to leave more marks like these all across you…” His grip loosened. Only slightly, but enough to give me an idea.

“Hey Strade?”

“ _Ja?_ ” He was still distracted. He didn’t see it coming.

“You let your guard down.”

His eyes shot open, but before he could react, I brought my knee up. Hard.

I must’ve hit him somewhere sensitive, because his face contorted in pain, burning bright red, and he sputtered and choked, rolling off me and falling weakly to the ground. He barely caught himself with arm as he tried to gain the ability to breathe again.

I smiled triumphantly, straddling him in turn. It was now or never.

I brought my knife up, ready to plunge it into his waiting chest. I was laughing maniacally. I could hear myself, but it didn’t sound like me. I couldn’t stop. He looked so pathetic beneath me, sweating and groaning in pain.

“Aw, what’s the matter? Can’t handle a dose of your own medicine?” I brought the knife down, slicing it across his chest. It wasn’t enough to kill, but it would hurt pretty fuckin’ bad. He needed to suffer first. I needed it.

He inhaled sharply, recoiling as his shirt sliced and blood started trickling from the wound and pooling on his chest.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you!” I brought my other hand down in a fist against his cheek, punching him hard enough that he coughed up some blood. I don’t know whether it was the punch or the preexisting cut, but I didn’t care.

He muttered something under his breath, but I couldn’t make it out.

“Speak up! I can’t hear you down there.” I backhanded him the other way, sending his head swinging the opposite way. My arm was starting to hurt. I would live.

His voice was a horse whisper, barely audible.

“…There it is… Can you feel it?”

“I can’t feel a thing, but I’m sure you’re feeling plenty enough for the both of us. Don’t worry, when I’m done, you won’t feel anything ever again.” I brought my knife to his arm, pushing hard, dragging it slowly like he had the first time we met.

He turned his head back up to face me. He was grinning. His eyes narrowed on me. He spoke softly.

“Just. Like. Me.”

What?

Oh God.

Holy fuck, he was right.

A normal person would have killed him quickly or run away as soon as they could. They wouldn’t have gotten on top of him, slashing and bludgeoning and torturing him for the hell of it. But I did. Because I wanted to. Because I needed to. Because every fiber of my being was getting off to seeing him helpless and hurting. Sure, he had made my last year a living hell, but this was overkill. It wasn’t just revenge. It was delight.

“You’re wrong.” My hands started shaking.

“Am I? You’re telling me you’re not left wanting? That you’re not just _dripping_ with excitement?”

I opened my mouth to tell him to be quiet, but his hand shot up, slipping beneath the bottom of my shorts and up past my panties. He ran his fingers across my opening, and it took effort on my part to restrain a moan as he stroked me. I wasn’t supposed to want this, but I could feel the slowly growing fire igniting in my lower stomach as I clenched around nothing, beckoning him. Slowly, he pulled his hand out, rubbing between his fingers.

He smirked, bringing them to his mouth and sucking on them for a moment before giggling madly. “Liar.”

Sneering, I brought my hand up to backhand him again, but he caught my wrist, completely ignoring the knife that slashed deeply into his upper arm.

Fuck.

“This has been fun, but I’ve had enough teasing for now.” Suddenly at full health again, he sat up, throwing me backward off him in the process. I started to scramble away, but he grabbed my ankle and pulled me back toward him. Something hit me hard in the back of the head. The butt of the knife probably. He grunted as he lifted himself off the floor, and I felt his hands wrap around my waist, throwing me over his shoulder like a ragdoll. The last thing I heard before my vision went black was him whistling pleasantly, and the sound of something metal clinking together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morgana's makeshift German guide:
> 
> Mein liebe: My love  
> Häschen: Bunnyrabbit  
> Süßling: Sweety (general pet name)  
> Engelein: Little Angel


	8. Something in Your Mouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, maybe he didn't want to kill you. At least on purpose.  
> (Might come back and edit this chapter later.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awful transition in the end of this chapter. Sorry.

I could hear his voice even in my sleep. Whispering and muttering things to me. Some of them I understood. Some I didn’t. He was all I could see, all I could feel. Even in my own head, I couldn’t run from him. His face played like a screen saver in my mind. His knife on my skin, his hands on my neck. The stench of him was caught in the back of my throat like bile. Grease and oil and blood. I was drowning in him.

After that, it was just blackness. Wading through a sea of darkness. My head knew I was in danger, but my body couldn’t bring itself to care. It just wanted to rest.

Even as I came to what seemed like an eternity later, it took a moment to try and separate reality and fantasy. My vision blurred as I opened my eyes. It was dark in my room. Was it night again? What’s happening? I craned my neck out of instinct, trying to get a grasp on the situation. I could feel something soft underneath me. He had placed me back on my bed, even placed a pillow under my head.

Gee, at least he was nice enough to make me comfortable.

Hazily, I scanned the room, searching for any sign of him. I tried to reach out, but found my hands were bound behind me, followed quickly by the realization that my legs were bound as well by a thick, chaffing rope at the knees and ankles. Cold metal scraped against my wrists. He had handcuffed me in some sort of metal cufflink. Cursing, I pulled and strained against it, but it looks like he had learned from his mistakes. Yanking my hand out of this one would definitely dislocate and break my wrist and probably a few knuckles as well, which was an injury I couldn’t afford if I was going to have any chance of escaping.

My one comfort was that he was nowhere to be found. I looked around the room for any sign of him, but I didn’t see anything to hint that he was nearby and the room was completely silent. He had left the bathroom door open, so I knew he wasn’t in there either. He had also shut my door, probably so I couldn’t scoot my way out since there was no way I could reach the handle. Regardless, I wasn’t under his supervision. That gave me a little bit of hope.

Okay, think. He’s stupidly given me an opportunity to escape by not keeping me under constant watch. I knew he wasn’t far, probably in the house somewhere, but he couldn’t see me. I ran my eyes across the room, looking for something, anything I could use. He had taken both his knife and mine, but there was a sizeable blood pool on my carpet from our tumble as a reminder. Nice. That was going to be expensive. There was nothing in my closet but shoes and piles of clothes, none of which were particularly helpful right now.

Wait, my phone!

Before he showed up, I had it close to me. During our scuffle, I think it had gotten knocked somewhere. If I had any luck at all, he wouldn’t have seen it. It would still be underneath a surface somewhere.

I tilted my head over the edge of the bed, looking underneath as carefully as I could without flopping to the ground like a dead fish. From what I could see, there was nothing there. Fuck. Okay, don’t lose hope. There are other places it could be.

It was difficult to see under my nightstand and dresser from my bound position, but I could see well enough to know that it wasn’t there. That only left one place it could be, assuming he hadn’t found it. I rolled over a few times to give myself a better view as I pushed forward as much as possible without falling so I hopefully catch a glimpse of it. Under my desk. It had to be under my desk.

Sure enough, even in the dim room, I could see the outline of my phone case as I pushed against the bed for support. It was there, obscured but slightly visible underneath my work desk. It must have gotten kicked underneath when I tackled him. The elation I felt when I saw the cheap plastic casing was almost overwhelming. I sighed, audibly relieved, and sent a thanks to the anti-torture deity watching over me. If I could just get to it, I might be able to dial 911 with my chin or something. I’d figure it out. But first things first. How in the hell was I going to get to it?

The way I was tied, there was no way I was going to be able to hop off with my legs. Even if I managed it, I’d crash on my face the second my body left the bed. The top of my mattress was at least two and a half feet off the floor, which meant that rolling off would certainly cause noise, not to mention it might hurt depending on how I landed. I could try to hoist myself down slowly one body part at a time, but that would take a lot of time, and that was something I didn’t have.

Damn it all. I needed to get to that phone. Rolling off in one quick motion seemed to be the best idea. It might make a thump, but depending on where he was, he might not even hear it. I took a deep breath, praying for one last favor as I readied myself for the fall.

In one swift motion, I hurled myself off the bed. I hit the carpet hard on my stomach, groaning in pain. I was still sore from earlier, and hitting myself in the gut even against the plushy carpet felt like a kick in the ribs. Luckily, the sound from the floor seemed minimal. Small comforts. I waited silently for a minute, just in case I would hear his footsteps coming towards the room, but I heard nothing. I was good to go.

Getting to the phone wasn’t going to be an easy task. Pretty much all my motor functions were severely impeded by the ties around my legs and arms. To put it bluntly, I was going to have to literally worm my way over to it. I threw my chin out, pushing my knees against the floor and slowly moving across the room as I did so. The carpet burned my chin as I shoved forward, but I pressed onward.

A minute or so later and I was almost there. So close. I could almost feel the victory. But you know that old saying. Don’t count your chickens before they hatch.

That’s when I heard him come in. The doorknob turning and the hinges creaking open behind me. How the fuck was he so quiet? I was mid-worm, butt in the air and legs kicking when the door swung open. I closed my eyes and frowned, disappointed beyond measure. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

Slowly, I turned my head toward the entrance, and sure enough, there he was. His eyebrows were practically in his hairline, and his mouth was slightly agape. He almost looked confused, a look that didn’t quite suit him. I didn’t dare move because I didn’t know what came next. Would he kick me? Toss me? Play lawn darts with my head as the lawn? I wasn’t sure. I just stayed in my ridiculous position, staring him down, waiting.

Slowly, his lip began to twitch, and I figured he was pissed. It wasn’t until he ended up busting out into full blown laughter that I finally slunk down to the floor in defeat. He was doubled over, slapping his knee and howling in amusement. He sounded like a hyena, cackling and snorting. It was several minutes before he was able to catch his breath and speak.

“Oh! Oh, _mein Gott_! That is…” Another long bout of laughter. I rolled my eyes. “That is… _wunderbar_! Ah, _liebling_ , that is so precious!” He was practically choking on his own words, his laughing fit echoing down the hall behind him.

“I’m glad this is amusing to you.” I deadpanned.

He finally settled down, sighing deeply and wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes. Still smiling, he walked into the room, stopping only a few inches short from me.

“Where exactly is it that you thought you were going like that?” He gave me a condescending look as he crouched down by me. Don’t look at the phone. Don’t look at the phone. Don’t look at the goddamn phone.

“I was actually trying to get to the wall, so I could bash my own head in so I don’t have to spend another fucking minute with you.” I scowled, trying to keep my eyes on him. Don’t give him tell.

He shook his head, patting my cheek. “You’re a terrible liar, little one.” Standing up, he ran his eyes around the room. He knew I was looking for something. I just had to pray he didn’t find it. He stomped over to the nightstand, running his finger across it. Then to the dresser, where he picked up a few books before setting them back down. I didn’t know what he was doing, but it was annoying me.

“Do you insist upon touching my things?”

He ignored me, continuing to slowly stalk around the room, running his hands across my belongings. I tensed up when he got to the desk, curling my toes in anxiety and watching him without blinking. Was it visible? Could he see it? My breath hitched and I ground my teeth together.

He noticed my sudden seize and a small smile curled on his lips. Fuck. That’s what he was waiting for, My reaction. That was my fucking tell. I had practically told him where it was. Manipulative fucking prick.

“I’m getting warmer.” He sang, ruffling through all the papers on my desk. Then he moved to the drawers, opening them and shoving his hand in, mussing up the contents. He turned to my laptop last, opening it only to find it turned off. He stared at it briefly, seemingly curious, but he thought better and shut it again, setting it aside.

“If it’s not _on_ the desk…” He turned to me, waiting. My last line of hope died, and I couldn’t bring myself to look back at him. He only chuckled, squatting down and feeling around with his hand. After a few tries, his fingers curled around my cell, bringing it to his face. “Naughty little _fraulein._ ”

“God, fuck you.” I let my head slump against the floor.

He toyed with my phone, pressing buttons and no doubt invading my space. I heard him giggle a few times, but I didn’t want to think about it. Who knew what the fuck he was doing.

“I think I’ll hold on to this for now.” He twirled it in his hands before placing it down into his pocket. My last act of defiance was to turn away from him and face the wall, but that didn’t last long. I heard him approach me again, digging his fingers underneath my body and lifting me bridal style and cradling me in his arms. I could smell his sweat and blood clinging to his shirt, and something that vaguely smelled a bit like raw pancake batter.

“Hey, Strade?” I looked up at him and saw his brow arch as he peered down at me.

“ _Ja, mein haustier_?’

“We have a shower here. You should try using it.” I couldn’t help myself. The immature child in me comes out from time to time, especially when I’m nervous or about to be in immense pain. Besides, I was being honest. Strade really needed a good soak. Or five. He scowled down at me, walking over to the bed and throwing me down unceremoniously onto it. I winced as I hit the mattress, my bones protesting all the sudden contact.

“You didn’t seem to mind before, especially when we were-“

“Stop! Right there! Do not finish that fucking sentence!” I cut him off, frowning up at him. He smirked in response, sitting down next to me on the bed. I tried to kick at him, but he only grabbed my leg harshly, digging his nails into my calf.

We sat in silence for a moment. He seemed to be thinking, and I was in no hurry to hear what ever it was he had to say. I closed my eyes, wondering if I fell asleep if he would wake me up, or maybe let me be. Wishful thinking really.

Eventually he spoke, breaking the tension. “Last time we met, you left me with a gift.” Slowly, he unbuttoned his pale green button-up, removing it and tossing it aside onto the bed. Seemed stupid, considering the large gash through it. He was left in only a black wifebeater that had clearly seen better days, and I noticed the same marking that was on the patch of his shirt was tattooed into his large forearm. I wondered what it meant. Not enough to ask, since I did not like the sinister glimmer in his eyes as he turned to face me.

He paused briefly, fingering behind his ear, almost trying to contain excitement. After a moment, he craned his neck to the side and pushed his dusty locks out of the way to reveal his upper neck.

Oof.

I could make out the puffy, keloided scar going across a fraction of his flesh. The scar I made. When I tried to kill him. It was a nasty looking little thing, though nothing compared to the marks on my thighs.

“Does that mean I get to slice your legs open too? Just so we’re even?” I questioned, already knowing the answer.

He simply tutted me, pulling the knife from his holster. I sucked in a breath as he reached down, cutting the rope that bound my knees. “This will only hurt as much or as little as you let it. You see, how deeply or harshly I cut your neck is going to be up to you.”

“I’ve made a decision then. Not at all.” I didn’t know if he was fond of my facetiousness, but I sure as shit wasn’t going to stop. Maybe it was my defense mechanism against whatever horrible thing was about to befall me.

He shrugged me off regardless, chuckling and shaking his head.

“Look, if you cut my neck too deep or too hard, you’ll kill me, and that will defeat the entire purpose of you being here.” My lip began to tremble. Something told me this wasn’t going to be pleasant.

“Oh no, _schön._ I’ll make sure it doesn’t. I know just where I’ll put it. It won’t kill you, but it can be… quite painful.” A slow smile spread across his face as he twirled the knife around in his fingers. Good God, what was I in for?

“W-what do you want from me?” I couldn’t help the stutter. Whatever was about to happen, I needed to steel myself against it, prepare for it. Fear crawled into my gut, settling deep inside and spiraling through my limbs.

“You see, you gave me that scar during a very _intimate_ moment. So, it’s only fair I do the same, don’t you agree?” His eyelids settled lower and his face started to flush. “Here’s the little game we’re going to play. You’re going to take me in your mouth, and for every few minutes that passes, I’m going to push the knife just a little bit deeper into your neck. How long that lasts is under your control.”

I only stared blankly at him for a few minutes before what he said finally registered in my head. “A-Are you fucking kidding me?” I wriggled and strained against my binds, but it was no use. I saw his hands reach down and begin to unbuckle his belt. I tore my eyes away, but I heard the distinct sound of his zipper coming down, and panic rang through me anew.

He laughed softly as he effortlessly picked me up again and set me down on my knees with my back against the bed. He stood in front of me, trapping me between his legs and the bedframe. I refused to look at him, but he brought his hands down and grabbed my cheeks roughly, forcing my face forward to meet his crotch.

He was already fully erect, bobbing only inches from my mouth. I had forgotten how large he was, although I should have expected it considering his frame. Thick and veiny, already leaking precum. I swallowed hard, wondering how in the fuck I was going to pull this off. Some men were incredibly sensitive and could be finished with relative ease, but fate had not been kind to me lately, so I doubted that was the deal here.

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll even give you a head start. A few moments without the blade. If you work fast, you might not even get hurt at all.” He stroked himself a few times in my face, squeezing a few more drops out of his tip.

I grit my teeth, my mind running at top speed trying to think of every single technique I’d ever heard of to get this finished quick. “Can I have my hands, at least? To… you know?”

“No.”

That was his only answer as his free hand grabbed the back of my head, pushing me into his pelvis. The precum smeared across my cheek, and I had to fight him to reposition myself.

Okay, think fast. Figure out what he likes.

I opened my mouth, playing around the tip. I moved my tongue across the underside, and then slowly back up towards the front, sucking lightly. He shuddered, fingers on the back of my head digging into my hair. Maneuvering down slowly, I raked my tongue over the first few inches, and then pulled myself back out, licking at the tip again. Maybe he just wanted to see me degrade myself?

A few moments later, a dark chuckle rumbled in his belly, and I saw the knife flash from the corner of my vision. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

I felt it press very lightly on the skin an inch below my ear. Not enough to cut, but enough to agitate given enough friction. Fuck. Okay, okay.

I wrapped my lips around my teeth and took him in deeper, keeping my tongue pressed against his length. I gave him a few licks just to test the waters, and I felt him shiver. If I thought I could smell him before, it was overwhelming now. He smelled strongly, like musk and something like iron or copper. I did my best to block out thoughts of where his prick had been before coming here. Fuck knew what was gathering in my mouth as I salivated on him.

I bobbed and swiveled my head, taking him as deeply as I could without gagging. I pushed my mouth tightly against him, letting saliva pool and fall from my lips and onto his boots. My mouth was straining to contain all of him, but the feel of the knife against my neck certainly helped to motivate. I heard him moan, thrusting against me lightly as he pulled on the back of my head. I sucked hard and swallowed him, moving my head faster and further down, testing the limits of my gag reflex.

His breathing was beginning to become heavy and I figured I’d found a good rhythm, so I kept going, pushing down harder on my lips to stimulate him more. My tongue snaked around him, licking him and occasionally trying to swallow to provide that extra jolt of pleasure. His hand was wrapping around in my hair, yanking painfully. It was making it hard to focus. I just tried to keep going, hoping it would end soon.

He grunted, and I felt a stinging pain on my neck, progressively becoming more and more intense. He had pushed the knife even further. It was digging into my skin now, cutting a tiny bit more with each stroke. I cried out around his cock and he exhaled raggedly, the vibration from my outburst shooting sparks up his nether region. I looked up at him through my lashes, and that evil grin was on his face. I had a feeling the next few minutes were about to be very difficult.

When his eyes met mine, they narrowed on me, licking his upper lip. At that moment, I knew I had made a grave mistake. I pleaded silently, whatever he was about to do, don’t do it. Please don’t do it.

He did it.

He snarled, balling my hair in his fist and yanking my head back. The knife slashed sideways against the already existing cut and I whimpered in pain, feeling the stream of blood run down my neck. He was still partially in my mouth, but he forced me to look up at him. Tears were gathering in the corner of my eyes from the pain in my scalp and the intrusion in my throat. My breathing was labored and I wordlessly pleaded for him to stop, but all it did was excite him. He wanted it to hurt.

“ _Weiter._ ”

He shoved my head back down and bucked mercilessly into me, driving his cock all the way down. I gagged against him, sputtering for air, fighting my restraints and trying to free my airway. He held himself there for a moment, ignoring my thrashing protests. It took every ounce of control I had not to vomit. Slowly, he pulled himself from my throat and I gasped for air, falling against his leg for support.

Saliva dripped from my lips and against my chin, and tears flowed freely now against my will. I heaved in air, relishing in the momentary reprieve. Only a few seconds passed before he yanked me back down onto him, slamming his cock back down into me, and I retched. He continued, pounding mercilessly into my mouth, beginning to throb and sweat.

He fucked my face, no longer thinking or caring if I could breathe. He brutally shoved me between his legs, forcing me to swallow his entire length, my face buried in his pubes. I yelped and pleaded, but it came out as undiscernible gargling as I swallowed his cock whole. His hand in my hair kept me from moving, and the knife against my neck that slid across my skin kept me from thrashing about. It slashed the same spot over and over, and had to bite back a sob. My vision tunneled and I felt faint. If this wasn’t over soon, I was definitely going to black out.

After several moments, his movements became unhinged and wild. He was barely breathing, sweat dripping from his face and neck. He burrowed into my throat once more, grip on the blade shaking as he did.

“ _Ich.. Ich komme!_ ”

My eyes lulled back into my head, losing consciousness. My jaw was slack against him, but he held my head still, bucking a few more times. He let out a loud guttural groan, and thick, salty liquid flooded my throat. I struggled to swallow it, but between his cock and the amount, I coughed and heaved, spitting it up onto my chin.

He withdrew from me, and I collapsed onto the floor, sputtering and heaving air. I could taste him on my tongue and feel the blood run from the hackjob he had done on my neck. I hiccuped, clawing at the floor beneath him, just trying to catch my breath and see straight. He growled, kneeling and grabbing my neck and holding me in place as he rubbed himself over me, letting the last few droplets fall on my face and the carpet. I snarled at him, lashing out as much as I could while bound. He just kicked me aside, smiling down at me.

“Y-you motherfucker!” I coughed out, spitting onto the floor as he patted my back. “You were going to kill me!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morgana's makeshift German guide
> 
> Mein Gott: My God  
> Wunderbar: Wonderful  
> Liebling: Darling  
> Fraulein: Unmarried woman? Miss? Something like that. A girl. It's a fucking girl.  
> Mein haustier: My pet.  
> Schön: Pretty girl  
> Weiter: More  
> Ich komme: I'm cumming


	9. Mein Schatz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why, oh why, did you feel the need to go to the godforsaken bar that night?
> 
> HELLO yes I will go through and redo a few things here. Just some words, the story remains.   
> I’m sorry this chapter was rushed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my goodwill chapter, to show you guys I haven't forgotten about this story. I promise. It's actually one of the ones I really enjoy writing. I know it's short in comparison but I should have another one soon.
> 
> morgana-ren.tumblr.com if you're into that. I post updates and take requests, all that shit.

“Perhaps. But it seems like you did well enough to last.” He inspected the cut on my neck, pursing his lips, curling them upward slightly. I cringed as he slid his fingers across the wound while running his thumb across my cheek, gathering a small amount of his seed and sliding it into my mouth. I was too taken back to act for a moment, but gathered my senses and bit down as hard as I could. Again, he was too fast, and remained  unaffected by my outburst. “You did so well. I’m impressed.”

“Fuck you, Strade!” I thrashed wildly, spitting up at him. I screamed in frustration, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. I could taste him, and it made me sick. He seemed to know this, chuckling as I dry-heaved onto the floor. I pried and pulled at my restraints, metal tearing into my skin and burning as my flesh strained against the bindings. I began hitting my head on the surface below me, fueled purely by rage. His thick, meaty fingers caught my forehead on the third or fourth time, stroking tenderly.

“Save your energy. You’ll need it. Don’t want to run out of jam before we’ve had our fun, do we?”

“I’ll fucking gut you, you fucking cocksucker!” I wasn’t coherent anymore. Just shouting and sputtering in pure hate. “I’ll cut your prick off and fucking feed it to you in pieces!”

My threats continued, but never really seemed to make an impact. Most bordered on ridiculous, even outright outlandish. He just smirked down at me.

“Careful. I was planning on allowing you to recover, but if you insist on continuing, I might not be able to help myself.” His hand fell down to his crotch, stroking himself lewdly.

“I’ll bite it off.” I snarled, snapping my teeth for good measure.

“Who said anything about your mouth?” He caressed the top of my head before digging his hand in, entwining his fingers in my hair and jerking backward, eliciting a yelp from me. “Besides, I think we both know I bite harder.”

I cried out as he pulled me upward by my scalp, yanking my head to the side and running his tongue around the fresh cut across my neck. When he has his fill, he threw me down to the floor, sending a fresh wave of pain through my skull as my head hit the ground.

He gathered himself up, pushing up from his knees and stretching, yawning audibly as he arched his back. I felt the tickle of liquid dripping down from my throat, dropping gently down my neck. It was starting to sting, and the bodily fluids on my cheek were beginning to dry, itchy and agitating my skin. I tried to turn my face, rubbing the excess on the carpet.

I couldn’t see with my head turned, but I heard the sound of a zipper, and the footfall of his boots against the floor. Strade walked out, not bothering to shut the door behind him. I heard another door at the end of the hall open and shut, his gentle humming seeming further and further away. I was relieved for a moment, only happy that he was gone and I could regain my composure. It only lasted a few seconds before he approached again. I closed my eyes, exhaling. Whatever it was he was about to subject me to, I didn’t want to know.

He placed his fingers around my jaw, forcefully turning my head towards him again. I felt the wet washcloth against my skin before I really registered it. I had been waiting for his fist or a knife. He sloppily moved it across my chin, rubbing harshly with his fingers across my stinging flesh. He did this for a few moments before turning his attentions to my swelling neck, dabbing away at the clotting blood. I hissed in pain, and I heard him chortle.

“So tender, _liebling_.” He raked the cloth across the laceration, pushing his fingers down with enough force to make me cry out. “So responsive.”

I swallowed down my urge to cry, still too prideful to let him see tears from me again. Anything I would say to him would just egg him on, so I kept my mouth shut as he worked. He flattened his lips into a thin line, wiping away at the mess he’d made. He scowled a few times, lifting the cloth from me before pressing down again. I wasn’t sure what was going through his head, and honestly, I didn’t want to find out.

“It’s not deep enough for me to need to stitch you up.” Frowning, he tossed the rag aside. It was one of my roommate’s special wash towels, which was now steeped in various fluids, staining it a hideous color of pink. She was going to be furious. “That’s a shame.”

Memories of him shoving the needle and thread through my skin over and over again came crashing back. He had not been gentle, tugging and plucking at the strings as he threaded them through the gashes he had made on my thighs. The thought of him anywhere _near_ my neck with a needle made me wince. I did my best to shove them back down, determined not to give him an inch.

 “Yeah, a real shame.” I croaked out, subconsciously pulling at my bindings again. They were beginning to cut me open.

He stood back up, pushing himself from his position beside me with a grunt. I heard the squeak of my bed above me, creaking under the pressure of his body as he sat down on my mattress and began unlacing his boots. He slid one off, deftly kicking it into the middle of the room and quickly went to work on the other one. There was something so strange about watching him do such a simple, domestic task. Very strange, especially considering I was still hogtied on the floor beneath him.

When he finally managed to get his other boot off, he stretched his toes around in his black wool socks, kicking his feet around obnoxiously near my face. I thought about making a snide comment about it, but I honestly didn’t want to give him any ideas. Instead, I just wiggled as far away from his wayward legs as I could, scrunching my face in irritation. I heard him chuckle, apparently not oblivious to my ire.

He shoved himself off my bed, his big foot missing me only by a few inches as he hopped off. Leaning over me, he dug his fingers underneath my body, lifting me up into his arms again. He was smiling down at me, sending an uneasy chill down my spine. His smile never boded well.

“I think you’re all out of energy, buddy!” He cradled me in his arms bridal style, putting more strain on my restraints as they dug into my joints. “That’s okay, it’s been a big day for both of us. Let’s get some rest, _ja?_ ”

“Funny,” I huffed, craning my neck to try to avoid agitating the cut against his forearm any further. “that you seem to think I’ll be getting any amount of rest with you within a fucking mile of me.”

He laughed heartily, dumping me back on the bed with my chest pressing against the mattress. “I would think that anything I could do to you while you slept could also be done to you while you are awake, and it’s much more _fun_ to see your reaction.” He mussed my hair, scraping his nails against my scalp. “So, if we follow that line of thinking, wouldn’t you be better off asleep?”

I pondered his word, realizing the truth behind them. Still, nothing with Strade was ever as simple as he wanted you to think. “And what’re you going to do? Just stay up and watch me sleep like the knife wielding psycho you are?”

“Of course not, silly girl! Even I need my rest!” He started manipulating the cuffs on my wrists, unlocking them before going to remove them. I felt a spark of hope.

“What makes you think I won’t sink that knife into your chest while you sleep?”

He laughed again, more maliciously this time. A dark rumble coming from deep in his chest that reverberated off my walls. “Let’s just say I’m a very light sleeper.” He clicked off the cuffs, holding my wrists in his hands. “Now, I’m going to move your hands to your front. If you try to fight me,” He squeezed his fingers, digging them cruelly into my tendons, popping my wrists and forcing me to hiss in pain. “I’ll get them in front by dislocating your shoulders instead.”

I nodded, biting my lip in frustration. He held his harsh grip for a moment more before letting my hands go, allowing me one brief moment of freedom before he forced me over onto my back, taking my wrists in one of his large hands. I saw him gather up the cufflinks again and I frowned, shaking my head. “Can I just have a minute? Just a few minutes before you put them back on?”

He peered down at me curiously, obviously slightly put off by my sudden politeness. “Hmm?”

“Just… before you cuff me again, can I have a little bit?” I shucked his hands off me, rubbing at my raw wrists while sucking at my cheek as I tried to will away the soreness. “I won’t attack you or anything. The cuffs are starting to cut into me. That’s all.”

He seemed pensive for a moment, sighing as he placed his rough hand on my face, stroking my cheek with his calloused thumb. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt.”

I exhaled in relief, moving to scratch at the little cuts beginning to form around my wrists. I did this only for a few seconds before I was violently startled out of my actions when he dug his fingers into the soft of my cheek, grinding it against my teeth. His other hand curled around my bruising arm and crushed, ripping at the newly formed abrasions. A look of betrayal flashed on my face as my eyes found his, and I immediately realized my mistake.

“But you haven’t done anything to earn my mercy, _maus._ In fact, you’ve been rather disobedient.” His hand crushed into my face with brutal strength, and I swear I could feel the bones in my jaw cracking. He was smiling again, tongue running over pearly teeth like a predator. I cursed myself inwardly. _Never_ give him any power. _Ever._

“Fuck you, Strade, just put the fucking cuffs back on!” I tried to yank my head out of his hand, but his grip was iron. His eyes were narrowed on me, moving back and forth between my neck and my face.

“Are you sure? I could think of a few things that might earn you some good will.” His eyes drifted down to the knife at his side.

“Put the fucking cuffs on and shut the fuck up.” I spit, doing my best to contain my pain induced rage. I knew it wasn’t in a position to fight him right now.

“Only because you asked so nicely.” He pushed the cuffs down on one of my wrists, making sure to enclose it several notches tighter than last time. I clenched my eyes shut, determined to show no signs of weakness. Gauging by his face before I managed to shut them, he didn’t buy it. He wrenched my arm upward by the free cuff which was enough to make me break my stoic façade, giggling to himself as he wove it through my headboard, grabbing my other wrist shortly after and cuffing it as well. Both of my hands had been restrained over my head to the bed, leaving me trapped in the middle. I was suddenly feeling regretful of my taste in décor.

“Comfortable?” He inquired, obviously proud of himself. I bit my tongue, determined to keep my mouth shut. I had nothing to say to him that wouldn’t result in several teeth missing. “Good.”

I thought for a moment that he’d wander off again, shutting the door behind him and leaving me alone in the darkness with my thoughts. I was wrong. Instead, he flopped down next to me, turning towards me and lacing his arms around my upper body possessively. He rested his head in the crook of my neck, taking a deep inhale of my hair. I instinctively gave a sound of disgust. He only pet my head softly with one of his hands, occasionally wandering down to my face and tracing his fingertips down my lips. I closed my eyes, trying my best to pretend I was somewhere, _anywhere_ else but here.

Right before I drifted off, I heard him whisper to me.

“ _Mein schatz_.”

**Author's Note:**

> So I literally have 37 pages of this already written. I'll be updating as I proofread, but keep in mind, proofreading is insanely boring to me so I drink to do it, so the quality is... no.  
> Yeah, 37. I need a life.


End file.
